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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331567">Changing Tides</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dll10/pseuds/dll10'>dll10</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dll10/pseuds/dll10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident sends Lily Luna tumbling into the past, and straight into Draco Malfoy's path. With her every interaction, the future as she knows it changes. The tide of the war is changing, and Lily is poised to inadvertently steer things - if she can remember enough, and so long as her heart doesn't unintentionally make things worse for everyone. Time-travel fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Lily Luna Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Into the Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author's Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!</p><p>I've never heard of this pairing, but the idea came to me in a dream last night, and I had to at least jot down the beginning. If there's enough interest, I'll continue the story. If not, it'll be a one-shot.</p><p>PS I'm not JK Rowling, so I don't own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 1: Into the Past</p><p>The blast shoved Lily out of the second story window of her Uncle George's joke shop. She tumbled in a free fall, her dark grey robes whipping out around her, shredded and torn by the jagged edges of shattered glass she'd flown through until they waved in the wind like dancing ribbons. There was no time to feel pain though she knew a number of the razor splinters had embedded themselves in her back, arms and legs.</p><p>"Oof!" The muffled groan came from beneath her.</p><p>A particularly painful shard of glass sunk deeper into her shoulder as the figure that'd broken her fall shoved roughly at her, trying to get her off, and forcing a pained whimper from her throat, "Mmgh."</p><p>Lily rolled, rising to her knees to face the person, ready to apologize or ask for help - she wasn't precisely sure which. Her uncle was going to have her head, assuming her mother didn't first. At least her dad would see to her injuries before he started lecturing her about not messing with unknown magic. Her mum would just yell at her the entire time she bandaged her up.</p><p>She really shouldn't have taken the dare to show off her potion skills by tweaking her uncle's latest creation. It just made her so angry when her cousin, Roxy, taunted her like that! Saying she wasn't brave enough to be a Gryffindor just because she never bent or broke the rules. If Roxy's mum had Ginevra Potter's temper, or if her dad was the famous Harry Potter, she'd be just a bit more reluctant to draw attention to herself too.</p><p>"Shove off, Weasley!" sneered the male she'd landed atop of. He came into focus slowly, brushing off his robes and he staggered to his feet, towering over her. Too slowly. She shook her head, clearing the morning fog filling her brain and slowing her muddled thoughts.</p><p>"Potter. I'm Lily, not Rose," she muttered, annoyed to be mistaken for her ever so popular cousin. Maybe Roxy really was right. She'd done a bit too good of a job keeping her head down during her time at Hogwarts.</p><p>Lily hated when she was mistaken for her cousin. It wasn't like they were all interchangeable - despite their vast numbers. Yet it happened all too often. Though better Rose than Lucy, Percy's daughter who was in the same year as Lily. At least Rose was intelligent, though she had wild carroty-orange hair and her father's oversized nose. Neither of which stopped her from receiving her Head Girl badge in the post last week. Or stopped her from bragging about it nonstop ever since she got it.</p><p>Lily honestly didn't think she looked anything at all like the Weasley side of her family. Most people agreed that she looked just like her grandmother, whom she was named after, with her darker red hair, mimicking the heart of a ruby, and lack of freckles on her porcelain skin. Only her light brown eyes came from Ginny, and even those had freckles of deepest emerald green scattered within their depths.</p><p>"What?" he demanded, puffing out his chest and planting his balled fists on his hips. She supposed he was trying to appear intimidating, but her fragmented thoughts were too preoccupied to fully appreciate the effort.</p><p>She blinked, taking in his pale, nearly white-blond hair and piercing grey eyes. His eyes. They were crystalized wisps of smoke. His skin was stretched so tightly over his high cheekbones, that they appeared more blades ready to slice through the thin surface. Stress and worries far beyond his years showed in the purplish bags discoloring the skin beneath his striking eyes.</p><p>The boy looked about her age, possibly a year or two older. He reminded her strongly of her brother, Al's, best mate -</p><p>No. No, that wasn't right. This boy looked nothing like Rose. Why had the thought ever occurred to her that he looked like Al's mate? Al and Rose had been joined at the hip since starting at Hogwarts, despite being in separate houses.</p><p>How strange…</p><p>Strange? The word struck her. Yes. It was fitting.</p><p>Flickering her eyes about in a rapid scan, the word seemed to sum up her surroundings. The streets were packed with people, most of whom barely spared them a glance they were in such a hurry. No one offered her help or seemed to want to be a part of whatever was happening between her and the boy. Everyone passing kept going, deliberately looking away as if the sight of an injured girl wasn't worth acknowledging. More, they were going out of their way to ignore it.</p><p>No. She must be disoriented. That couldn't be what was happening. Lily took in her surroundings more closely.</p><p>Something thick and oppressive filled the air. Smothering. Like wading through molasses. Lily gasped, truly shocked that no one had come forward to investigate or help. Parents were too busy clutching their children close, almost in a rush to leave, skirting around them or even crossing the street to avoid them.</p><p>The shops were darker too. A few even had boarded up windows. Purple posters filled from top to bottom with neat script were plastered every few feet. And massive posters of Death Eaters had replaced the typical colorful displays. Bellatrix Lestrange stared at her from across the street. The witch's fingers were tangled in her gnarled, matted hair as she silently shreeked, her expression completely demented.</p><p>And Ollivander's was completely dark. How were the upcoming first years supposed to get their wands? He was the only wandmaker in Britain! It wasn't like he willingly took a holiday during his busiest time of the year.</p><p>It was Diagon Alley - but not as she'd ever seen it before. Not once had she ever been to Diagon Alley and seen the shop closed. Or any shop closed for that matter.</p><p>The only time she'd ever even heard of that happening were in the stories of the war. The stories her family and their friends told when they visited Hogwarts as guest speakers. When they regaled masses of riveted students with the horrors that were never ever spoken about at home or any other time.</p><p>"I asked you a question. Did your clumsiness knock all of your wits out? Assuming you had any to begin with, of course," the boy prodded sharply. The words might have been meant as a barb, but when she glanced up, all she saw was uncertainty mirrored back at her.</p><p>"Sorry," Lily began, flushing against the mocking jab. The warmth infusing her cheeks made speaking difficult, so she cleared her throat and said, "I'm a Potter - not a Weasley. Well, I guess technically I am through my mum, but -"</p><p>"What do you mean you're a Potter?" another voice demanded. Lily jerked around, falling back as three figures appeared out of thin air.</p><p>She saw the tallest first. It was her Uncle Ron, only different. He was thin and gangly, all arms and legs and freckles everywhere. Appearing so very young too. Much, much too young. And without the gut he'd recently been working on expanding with his constant sweet intake. He was glaring at her distrustfully, suspicion clear in his scowl. It was the same expression Rose wore when confronting misbehaving first years. He shifted suddenly, though not at all subtly, to put himself in front of a girl.</p><p>Her uncle's deliberate movement refocused Lily's attention on the girl he was attempting to shield. It was Aunt Hermione. In all her frizzy-haired glory, and just as young as her uncle. Lily usually only saw her looking like that at home. Normally, when she was out, she'd take the time to smooth the unruly strands and look more professional. Especially now that she was up for the Minister of Magic position. She was wringing her hands, her head whipping back and forth between Lily and Harry. Lily watched as her aunt's lips parted, understanding far more than Lily was able to comprehend in that moment.</p><p>Neither of them should have been there. Uncle Ron was managing the joke shop in Hogsmeade, so while it wasn't unheard of for him to visit the sister shop during the work day, it also wasn't all that common. Aunt Hermione, however, should have been at the ministry. She never took time off, or ventured away from her office during the day - especially not to go shopping. Nor should they have looked anything like what Lily was currently looking at.</p><p>After another second, she drug her eyes away to take in the third member of their trio. The final figure was nearly as familiar to her as her own reflection. The one and only Harry Potter. How peculiar that she didn't mistake him for Al. They were so similar in coloring, yet Al had never had that scarecrow, starved look about him. Nor did he wear glasses. Her brother had also never been so quick to whip out a wand and point it dangerously at a stranger the way her father was currently pointing his at her. And only her father had the trademark lightning bolt scar blazing across his forehead.</p><p>The whole scene was all wrong, and she couldn't for the life of her make sense of it. Because if Aunt Hermione wasn't supposed to be there, her father sure as hell wasn't either.</p><p>Merlin's balls, what had she gotten herself into?</p><p>"Dad?" Lily whispered, her jaw falling open as she returned to staring at the teenaged version of her father after a brief glance at the other two people beside him.</p><p>He was as young as her. It was all wrong. Black spots danced in her vision. The contents of her head shifted, making room for a rush of air that filled it, lightening it until it threatened to float away. Everything about this moment was wrong, and the glass in her back was really starting to hurt!</p><p>"Ow," she hissed, slumping forward and just barely catching herself from face planting on the sidewalk. That would have been mortifying.</p><p>"Harry! She's hurt. We have to get her inside - now," Hermione hissed fearfully, reacting first as usual.</p><p>"Aunt Hermione? What… " Lily began, but her aunt hushed her, rushing over.</p><p>"Shh! Don't say another word," she hastily breathed by her ear, the words running together as she hurriedly spoke. Hermione quickly unclasped the fastening at her throat and swirled her cloak off and around Lily, jerking the hood up to cover her brilliant scarlet hair.</p><p>"Ron, get your dad. Quickly," Hermione ordered. The clipped command left no room for argument, and her Uncle Ron took off immediately to obey, much as Lily had seen him do countless times over the years.</p><p>"Is this a trick?" Harry whispered thickly. There was so much longing in the question that Lily's heart went out to her father. He'd always said family was the one thing he treasured most. Seeing him now, in this moment, there could be no doubt in the sincerity of that claim.</p><p>"I don't think so, Harry," Hermione murmured, hesitantly reaching out to him. Her hand hovered in the distance separating them, but Harry seemed to feel it regardless as he lowered his wand.</p><p>Worry crumpled his face, as he too looked around, pausing when he recognized the other person in their little group. Disgust and hatred morphed his face into an expression Lily had never seen her father wear before. She swallowed nervously, understanding why people were usually a little afraid of the legendary Harry Potter. His wrath was nearly tangible just then.</p><p>"Malfoy, please, please - I know you hate us, but please keep this to yourself," Hermione begged, boldly staring him down.</p><p>Malfoy… Draco. Lily blinked as she recognized the name. This was Draco Malfoy. He'd worked with her father a number of times over the years. They weren't exactly friends, but her dad trusted him. She knew that much, at least. So why the animosity now?</p><p>Her aunt's panic began to register too. The way she was attempting to hide Lily from view of the passersby. Her aunt had always been the most clever in the family. Danger. Lily was in danger right now.</p><p>It was beginning to dawn on Lily just how buggered she was. Her family's youthful appearances. The fearful atmosphere of the typically merrily, bustling wizarding shopping district. Things were a lot worse for her than she'd immediately known.</p><p>"Like I'd ever do anything for the likes of -"</p><p>"Draco?" Lily whispered, gently reaching up to touch his hand. A spark shot through her at the contact.</p><p>"What?" he murmured, surprise filling his face as he looked back to her. Confusion replaced the surprise, though he attempted to mask it. It was a fairly passable job too, but she detected the cracks in his careful facade.</p><p>"I know you're a decent person. Please," Lily requested.</p><p>They stared at one another, some unspoken, foreign communication seeming to pass between them that she couldn't comprehend. Draco's mouth opened, but before he could speak, her uncle was back with her grandpa in tow, and Hermione was dragging her up.</p><p>"Run along, Malfoy," Mr Weasley ordered sternly, the surprisingly brusk command leaving no room for argument.</p><p>Then they were all hurrying inside the joke shop with Lily whimpering anytime someone accidentally bumped the glass embedded in her skin or a particular movement jarred one of her numerous injuries.</p><p>Lily glanced back over her shoulder once to find Draco still watching her, his blond brows pulled together, obviously perplexed. When a stranger bumped his shoulder, he blinked before turning and hurrying away, disappearing into the crowd.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Explanations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 2: Explanations</p><p>All at once, Lily was ushered inside Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and behind the counter where the stairs leading to the upstairs apartment were located.  She followed behind her father and grandfather with her aunt and apparently several of her uncles behind her.  Possibly her mother too.</p><p>Lily stumbled along in the progression in a daze, overwhelmed and uncertain.  No one spoke, but they moved with such deliberation that people hastily darted out of their way, pressing their backs against the shelves to make room for them to pass.  On the fifth step, her shoe slipped, and she tripped, falling forward.  </p><p>Automatically, she reached out to Harry.  He caught her hand, gripping it hard enough to keep her upright.  Large, round eyes, clear as a man-made emerald stared disbelievingly at her, their faces only inches apart.  It was easy to see where her ears came from.  </p><p>Pictures didn’t really convey how different he’d looked when he’d been her age.  In her time, he was strong, muscular from years of working as an Auror and playing Quidditch with her mum when he was helping her train.  But this version in front of her?  He was practically scrawny.  Not at all what one would expect the savior of the wizarding world to look like.</p><p>“Thanks, Dad,” she said, smiling awkwardly.</p><p>His eyes widened comically, and his jaw fell open.  He was saved from replying by her grandfather saying, “Come along.  We need to get back to the Burrow and get this sorted.”</p><p>“Er, do you need help?” Harry asked once they were standing in front of the fireplace in Uncle George’s living room.  He shifted, looking to Hermione then Mr. Weasley for help while flattening his messy bangs over his lightning bolt scar.</p><p>“This won’t be my first time going to the Burrow,” Lily said gently.</p><p>“Right,” he replied, nodding.</p><p>“Best you go first and warn Professor Dumbledore, Molly,” Mr. Weasley suggested, waving his wife forward.  Once she was gone in a flash of green, whooshing away like a spinning missile, he nodded to Ron.  “You next, Ron.”  </p><p>Lily shuffled back to let him pass, the movement reminding her painfully of the glass still embedded in her back.  “Ahh,” she gasped, wincing as the fireplace lit once more.</p><p>“Dad, she’s hurt,” Ginny said quickly.</p><p>“Oh, um, yes.  Let me just --” Mr. Weasley stuttered, waving his wand.  Lily jerked, gritting her teeth to bit back a cry of alarm.  Every piece of glass felt like it was janked out of her at once, but with a little flick and another wave, the pain vanished.  “There now.  That’s better,” he said with a nod.  </p><p>Obviously he was more used to caring for his boy’s cuts and scrapes.  Never had she known him to be as abrupt with any of his many grandkids.  Guess she’d been lucky to come along later -- after he’d had time to practice and perfect his healing spells.</p><p>Turning to thank him, Lily came face-to-face with her mum for the first time.  “Mum,” she gasped, startled by the similarities she’d never before noticed.  Funny how age had a tendency to mask them.</p><p>The witch before her was a little shorter than her, but they were built similarly.  Guess all her mum’s curves had developed after having three kids.  But their eyes were the same shape.  As were their noses and chins.  She’d never given it much thought, but her mum was beautiful.</p><p>“What did you just call me?” Ginny demanded, glancing about at the others.  Shock making her paler than normal.  The array of freckles on her face like a dusting of cinnamon.</p><p>She’d been dragged from the display of Pygmy Puffs in her brothers’ shop, letting her mum guide her upstairs with the rest of the family, but this was the first she was really hearing about what had happened outside -- or more particularly, her role in everything.</p><p>“Yes, what’s this about, Harry?” one of the twins interjected, looking pointedly between him and Ginny.  “Hmm?”</p><p>“Don’t look at me!  I’m as lost as the rest of you,” Harry yelled, raising his hands defensively.  His head whipped around looking a little panicked as he took in the assembled group of Weasleys.</p><p>“Kids!  The Floo, now, please,” Mr. Weasley called, though he appeared just as thrown by the unexpected situation.  “Boys are you staying --”</p><p>“No way,” the one on the left said.  Lily blinked, seeing them side-by-side for the first time.  It took a moment before she guessed the speaker to be Fred.</p><p>“This is too good to miss,” George added, grinning widely and nodding to his twin.</p><p>“Verity can handle things here for a bit.  See you there!”  Fred announced, then as one, they Disapparated with a loud crack!</p><p>Lily shuffled forward to fall in with the rest of her family’s exodus from the shop.  The scent of the roast Mrs. Weasley must have started that morning before their shopping excretion filled the warm home intermixed with apples and laundry detergent and a fragrance completely unique to the Burrow.  Memories of a thousand visits filled her head, each filled with love and happiness.  Nowhere else was as predictably exciting and eventful -- not even Hogwarts.</p><p>The sight of the familiar chaos of her grandparent’s home brought tears to her eyes.  Knitting needles whiled away beside the broken down, faded floral armchair that her gran favored.  She could hear chickens clucking outside the open windows, their steady clucking occasionally followed by a longer cry when one of the garden gnomes decided to give chase and startled them just for fun.  The individual hands on the old family clock were almost all pointing towards home, but there were significantly fewer present to represent her family members than she remembered from the last time she saw it.</p><p>Once they were all scattered about the living room of the Burrow, Lily found herself the focus of everyone’s scrutiny.  At first no one spoke, they simply studied her.  A science project on display.  It was unnerving.  Her skin was crawling from the number of eyes raking over it, and judging by the heat in her cheeks and ears, they’d no doubt turned a glowing scarlet.  No wonder her dad hated the zoo and usually refused to take them.  </p><p>“So who are you?” Ginny asked, breaking the silence.</p><p>“How’d you get here?” Fred asked before she had a chance to respond.  It was easier to tell them apart now that she’d done it already.  There were subtle gestures and body language that she’d grown up seeing George do, that Fred currently wasn’t.</p><p>“Am I famous?”  The last was from Ron, and earned him a snort from multiple directions.</p><p>“Quiet!” Harry bellowed, causing a hush to descend at once.  He sure knew how to command a room.  “Give her a chance to speak -- Lily, wasn’t it?” Harry asked, smiling slightly as he said her name.</p><p>“Yes, that’s right,” she acknowledged.  Swallowing, she finally said, “There was an accident, at the shop.  I…”</p><p>“Yes?” Mr. Weasley prodded when she didn’t continue.</p><p>“I’m very good at potions, see, and I thought… well, I hoped… to fix the one Uncle George was having trouble with,” she admitted reluctantly.</p><p>“What were you thinking?  You could have been killed!” Mrs. Weasley hollered, swelling with indignation as she really got into her stride.  Rounding on the twins, with her hands on her hips, she continued,  “Oh, George, why didn’t you have wards up?  What were you thinking letting your niece around --” </p><p>“Oi!  I haven’t done anything -- yet,” George protested, the unfairness of being reprimanded prematurely melting away to a wince and a half shrug.</p><p>“It’s really not his fault, Gran.  My cousin dared me to do it,” Lily interjected, defending her uncle.  There had been wards, but Roxy knew all her dad’s spells and easily bypassed them for her.</p><p>“Do you know all of us?” Fred asked, a peculiar look crossing his face.  Had he understood what she’d meant by calling the shop George’s, and not theirs?</p><p>“I… “</p><p>“What happened?” he asked quietly, expression so enigmatic a sphinx would envy it.</p><p>“There was an explosion, during the final battle and --ahhh!” she cried, bending at the waist to clutch her head.  Dual knives had just been shoved through her temples.  The explosion of phantom blades attacking her mind was brief, but lingering starbursts decorated the insides of her eyelids in bright whites and deep reds for several seconds afterwards.  By the time she stood, everyone was staring at her as though she’d grown a second head.  “Wh-what was-s that?” she finally muttered.</p><p>Several people looked to Harry for answers, but he appeared as bewildered as her.  “I don’t know,” he said when it became obvious they were waiting for an answer.</p><p>“But you get that too, don’t you?” Ron said, waving his finger in front of his forehead in little, erratic jerks.</p><p>“From my scar, yeah.  But that’s because of Voldemort.  I don’t think this is the same thing,” Harry replied, the skin around his eyes tight with concern or possibly discomfort.  Lily hadn’t known that about her father.  </p><p>“But she’s your kid -- you don’t think you gave it to her, or something, do you?” Ron persisted.</p><p>“No?” Harry tried, then annoyed, added, “And how would I know?”</p><p>“You were saying you didn’t know me because… “ Fred interrupted impatiently, returning to the previous topic.</p><p>Expect his question didn’t make any sense.  His daughter was the reason she was there.  Hadn’t she already told them that?  Roxy had the most wicked streak of all her cousins, taking after her father in that regard.  Uncle Fred’s jokes were always the sharpest, his taunts containing a few more lethal barbs than Uncle George’s.</p><p>Roxy had used Lily’s insecurities to gode her.  Each one of her family members had their hangups, same as everyone likely did.  Al probably had it the worst of all.  Understandably given his carbon copy appearance to their father.  And, because she was a Potter, hers were a little better known to the rest of the world.  </p><p>Lily cared the most about school and her grades, working harder than any of the others, yet Rose was always heralded as the smartest, cleverest, of the bunch -- her mother’s daughter.  Then there was Quidditch.  Quidditch ran in her blood.  She loved it.  Was good at it too.  Only, not as good as her cousins.  And there were more than enough of them to fill the team.  Gryffindor’s team lineup had been entirely filled with Weasley’s for years now between Bill’s three kids, Fred’s three, George’s two, and Ron’s two.  Then there was Jamie.  The sole Potter to play for Gryffindor.  He was unstoppable.  So good he’d actually gone pro upon graduating this last year.</p><p>So when it came to Potions, Lily actually was the best.  She’d gone out of her way to ensure it.  Professor Snape’s portrait had come to see her during her first year.  He’d taken one look at her and stated that he expected her to live up to her namesake’s brilliance in the subject or he’d be very disappointed in her.  That prodding had been all it took.  Well, that and the secret tutoring he’d given a few times during third year when she’d challenged herself to start learning more advanced potions.  </p><p>It was natural that she’d wanted to show off a bit when Roxy dared her.</p><p>“Of course I know you.  I know all of you.  Uncle Bill too.  You’re my family,” she said, confused as she looked around the room.  Hopefully they didn’t ask about Uncle Charlie and Uncle Percy.  She’d never met them, but gran always cried so much anytime either of them were mentioned.</p><p>“Wait, if we’re your family, and Harry’s your dad, then who’s your mum?” Ron asked suddenly, face scrunched up in a way that reminded her of Hugo.</p><p>“Really, Ronald,” Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes.  “Use that thick head of yours.”</p><p>Ron blinked owlishly.  Slowly, he turned first to a flushing Ginny, then Harry.  “You’ve been messing around with Ginny?” he growled.</p><p>“What?  No!  You know I haven’t,” Harry said, shifting back.  His eyes darted around, searching out the best escape route, no doubt.</p><p>“I’m with Dean, Ron,” Ginny huffed, clearly fed up with her brother butting into her love life.  </p><p>Wait, had she said Dean?  Her mum and dad weren’t even together yet?  Wonderful.  Her presence here, Merlin, her very existence must have been even more a shock to them than she’d first realized.</p><p>Lily didn’t know when her parents started dating.  They’d only ever said while they were at Hogwarts, but that they couldn’t be together until after the war.  She’d thought that meant they dated for a bit before Harry had gone off to fight Voldemort, but maybe they hadn’t.</p><p>“But surely you don’t plan on staying with him now that,” Ron started.  His words were interrupted by a knock on the front door, but after a quick glance, Ron waved his hand at Lily, and ended with, “Well -- her!”</p><p>“That’s not really your decision, now is it?” Ginny warned darkly.  It was a tone Lily was intimately familiar with.  She’d heard her mum use it with Jamie often enough.  It meant she was not to be messed with.  Not if you didn’t want to end up hexed at least.</p><p>“Is that what you want?” Harry asked quietly, sounding hurt though he tried to hide it.</p><p>“Yeah, Gin, is it?” Fred asked pointedly.</p><p>“Can we not talk about this here?” Ginny groaned, silently pleading with Harry.  He nodded, letting the subject go.  Ron didn’t seem to be on board with that plan, but thankfully Mr. Weasley returned with two newcomers trailing behind him.</p><p>“Ah, I see we have a visitor.  You’re a long way from home,” Professor Dumbledore said lightly.</p><p>Lily stared at him in awe, never expecting to come face-to-face with the great wizard.  He was precisely the way Harry and Ron had always described him.  To sum it up in a single word, eccentric.  Everything from the colorful robes patterned with various astrological nebulas to his absent smile practically screamed that he was full of surprises and deceptively powerful.  It was brilliant!</p><p>“Yes, Sir,” she confirmed, standing up a little straighter.  “I’m Lily.  Lily Luna Potter, Sir.”</p><p>“You look just like her,” said the second man in a pained whisper.  </p><p>Lily had been so preoccupied with meeting the extraordinary Albus Dumbledore, that she’d not paid any notice to his companion.  But when she did, she was struck by recognition.  Remus Lupin.</p><p>Teddy was every bit as tall as the rangy man with a very similar bone structure, but he had none of the white scars maring Remus’s face.  Nor did Teddy look so beaten down and world-wearing.  Teddy may be an orphan, but he was extremely well-loved, often spending most of each week at the Potters’ home.  At least until he’d married Victorie last Christmas, and truly become part of the family at last.</p><p>And Remus’s eyes were a pale blue, where Teddy favored using his metamorphmagus ability to make his emerald green to match his godfather’s.</p><p>“And Teddy looks just like you, except -- ahh!” she cried out again, nearly dropping to her knees this time when the pain lanced through her mind.  A sledgehammer repeatedly bashing her would have hurt less.  “Ow,” she groaned.</p><p>Cautiously blinking against the returned starbursts, Lily recognized the man before her as her cousin, Teddy's, biological father.  Lily had never been as close with Teddy as she was with his step-siblings since he was so much older than her.  </p><p>Harry and he occasionally went to Quidditch games together, and he usually attended family functions at the Burrow, but he’d taken off after graduating to travel with Aunt Luna and work for the Quibbler.  Last she heard, he was in Australia and had met a witch there that he planned on marrying.</p><p>Teddy really did look like Remus, though.  If you ignored the Weasley freckles he usually sported to mimic his step-father’s.  Teddy’s mum, Tonks, had remarried a few years after the war.  To Lily’s Uncle George, no less.  George had officially adopted Teddy.  And the couple had had three more children after that.  They’d -- </p><p>“Lily, don’t say anymore,” Hermione warned in a shrill, piercing voice, interrupting her reverie.</p><p>“What have you discovered, Miss Granger?” Professor Dumbledore inquired politely.  He smiled indulgently, nodding at her to share what he likely had already guessed himself.</p><p>“Whenever she mentions the future, she feels pain… because her memories are changing.”  Hermione was frowning, a slightly puzzled look on her face.  Probably, she was trying to remember something she’d once read in some book or another.</p><p>Hermione was half right.  Except, they weren’t only changing.  They were disappearing too.  Lily knew her dad had given a talk in her defence class this last spring about the war… only she couldn’t recall a single word he’d said.  She remembered her other lessons, and she knew he’d spoken specifically about the Battle of Hogwarts, but the content of the talk itself was a blank.</p><p>Worse, Lily couldn’t remember what those memories had contained prior to their alteration.  There was only a slight feeling that something or another had shifted.  What else had changed or vanished that she wasn’t even aware of yet?</p><p>“That would indeed be the case if she were altering the events she was familiar with,” Professor Dumbledore agreed, nodding sagely.</p><p>“But I haven’t tried to change anything,” Lily denied.  It hadn’t even been an hour since she fell out of the window, and she’d not exactly said a whole lot to anyone since it happened.</p><p>“Dangerous things happen to those who mess with time,” Hermione muttered, offering first Harry then Remus a small, sad smile.  “And you’ve been seen,” she added worriedly.</p><p>“Can you send me back?  Before anything else happens?” Lily asked, her pulse beginning to pound loudly in her ears, a staccato rhythm that drowned out the muted conversations suddenly taking place all around the room.</p><p>“I’m afraid time is a complex branch of magical study, and unfortunately it is not one I chose to pursue.  I do have friends that are more knowledgeable on the subject that I can contact, but that will have to be secondary to our attempts to defeat Voldemort,” Professor Dumbledore said regretfully.</p><p>Absently, the wizard moved to touch the witherned, blackened appendage that had once been his arm.  Or maybe he’d only meant the gesture to appear absent to the rest of the room, because he was watching her expectantly as he did it.  It was a deliberate reminder to her.  A silent communication that reminded her he was already dying.  It was only a matter of time now, and only one other person knew about it.  But she couldn’t say anything about it either.  Not without further altering the timeline.</p><p>Time.  He wouldn’t have enough left to help her.  She was stuck.  Stuck in a time where the wizarding war was at war, her entire family targeted.  Yet the most dangerous threat to her personally, was her own mind.</p><p>“Of course.  I understand,” she breathed, acknowledging the full truth of her situation.</p><p>“Please, try not to mention anything else you know to happen.  Not to myself, and certainly not to anyone else.  The wrong thing may remove you from the timeline entirely,” Professor Dumbledore said, more for the benefit of the others than herself.  It was already all she could think about.</p><p>“But, Sir, what is she supposed to do here?” Hermione asked loudly.  “She can’t go to Hogwarts.  If the wrong people discovered who she is...” </p><p>“They’d use her to get to me,” Harry stated flatly.  The dull sentence one he already seemed intimately familiar with.</p><p>“There will be none of that.  Nothing will happen to her, Harry, Dear.  I am perfectly capable of protecting and educating my granddaughter right here,” Mrs. Weasley said decisively.</p><p>The others continued debating what to do with her, but Lily tuned them out.  She had nothing helpful to add, and just the thought of speaking made panic claw at her throat and her skull threaten to split open.</p><p>“May I be excused?  My head… “</p><p>It was still hours before dinner, but a steady throbbing behind her eyes was making it difficult to focus.  Not to mention she was now petrified of letting anymore slip.  One wrong word might very well erase her from existence.</p><p>“Of course, Dear.  Why don’t you stay in Ginny’s room.  Hermione, you can stay in the twins’ old room,” Mrs. Weasley suggested.  Lily didn’t wait for a response before moving to exit the room.</p><p>“Lovely,” Hermione said dryly, her fingers reaching to brush the faint green smudge under her eye.  Lily didn’t envy her.  They were still finding potential hazards hidden about the Burrow, particularly in that room, and the two hadn’t lived there in decades.</p><p>~</p><p>A regal eagle owl was perched on the window sill of Ginny’s room when she got there.  It took two hard shoves to open the stuck window, the paint appearing to have melted and glued the pane shut.  Disdain practically radiated from the yellow eyes watching her intently from beneath the pointed dark brown tuffs.  They reminded her of horns.  How fitting since he had such a devious air about him.  </p><p>After a moment’s hesitation, the owl stuck out his right claw for her to untie the silver ribbon holding the small scroll to its leg.  Deep green wax sealed the missive with a family crest etched into it.</p><p>She held the mysterious letter gingerly, confusion furrowing her brow.  It wasn’t as though anyone knew she was here -- apart from those gathered below.  And if any of them had wanted to contact her, they’d have more than likely just come upstairs.</p><p>The owl took off without waiting for a reply, somehow conveying its impatience to be well away from the Weasley’s family home and back in familiar territory.  She watched the slow, powerful speckled wings beat out a steady rhythm as it departed, noticing two figures in the apple orchard in the process.</p><p>Harry and Ginny.  To two were facing each other, though Harry’s head was ducked, and he was rubbing the back of his neck.  It was sweet how shy and bashful he seemed around Ginny.  All tongue-tied and flustered.  While her parents were extremely private in public, they were in no way so conservative at home.  Seeing them like this, Lily was almost grateful she’d get to stick around long enough to watch them fall in love.</p><p>Shaking her head, she turned away from the scene playing out below and slid her pinkie under the edge of the wax seal to break it.  Unrolling the brief note had her gasping as she saw the identity of the sender first.  Neat script, narrow with sharp, spikey flourishes stared up at her, the few words stark against the pale parchment.  She read it three times before she was able to process any meaning in the request, her earlier fear returning to make her mind sluggish.  </p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>If you want me to keep our encounter to myself, meet me behind Ollivander’s at midnight.  Come alone.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3: Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>This is turning into more of a fluffy, wish-fulfillment piece than it is into a legitimate story.  Though maybe I’m being too critical of myself.  Hopefully, you’ll read it anyways and decide for yourself.</p><p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 3: Meeting</p><p>Lily laid down and pretended to be asleep for the rest of the evening, too scared to even try to interact with her family and pretend everything was normal.  What was she supposed to say to them?  How would they even talk without damaging the timeline?  What an impossible situation!</p><p>And on top of everything, now she had to sneak out later that night.</p><p>It wouldn’t be the first time she’d snuck out.  But usually she ended up at one of her cousin’s places or her godmother, Luna’s.  Somehow it felt more deceitful doing it now.  What with everyone freaking out over her sudden appearance and all.</p><p>She’d just rolled over to face away from the door when it opened.</p><p>“I told you it would work,” Hermione said smugly even as the door clicked shut.  Lily could tell the words had been threatening to burst from her aunt’s lips all afternoon, since the second Lily arrived, and she’d pounced the very instant she was free to.</p><p>“Yes, Hermione, you always know best,” Ginny said dryly.  Then, much quieter, added, “Now shush, she’s asleep, and I don’t want you waking her.”</p><p>How many times had she heard her mum say that to one of the boys?  A pang radiated through her chest.  A deep longing to be home and have her mum run her fingers through her hair the way she used to when Lily was younger and wishing she was at Hogwarts with her brothers.</p><p>“I thought you’d be more excited about this.  You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”</p><p>“Of course I do!” Ginny said in a rush, and from the sound of things, flopped down on her bed.  “I never really stopped… But I don’t want to throw Dean over and go running to Harry just because he finally noticed me.  Dean hasn’t done anything wrong for me to hurt him like that, and…”</p><p>“You’re worried Harry will change his mind if you make it too easy,” Hermione guessed.</p><p>“Am I being ridiculous?”</p><p>“No,” she said slowly, then sighed loudly.  “Well, yes, but I understand.”</p><p>“I know Harry isn’t like that,” Ginny said hastily, and even without seeing her, Lily could sense there was a but coming.</p><p>“The proof is lying right there,” Hermione said pointedly.</p><p>“She’s beautiful, isn’t she,” Ginny said almost dreamily.</p><p>“She’s going to be just fine, Gin.  None of us will let anyone hurt her,” Hermione promised.  Lily only wished she could be certain of her aunt’s ability to keep that promise.</p><p>“What if we can’t protect her?  We’re at war.  There are no guarantees.”  The fear in her mother’s voice was unmistakable, and Lily felt enormous guilt for being the source of it.  </p><p>She’d always been closer to her parents than her brothers were.  Less likely to act up or get into trouble.  Probably a result of being the only one at home for two years while Jamie and Al were away at school.</p><p>“What did he say outside?”</p><p>“About what you’d expect.  He likes me, has for a little while now, but there’s a war on and a target on his back.  Anything could happen, and he’s worried about putting me at risk,” Ginny said, as though reciting a familiar tale by rote.  </p><p>“You’re a Weasley and a known friend of Harry’s.  You were at the Ministry a few months ago.  There are targets aimed at all of us,” Hermione said breezily, waving Harry’s concerns away like a pesky fly buzzing about her head.</p><p>“I tried to tell him that,” Ginny spouted, then, much more grumpily, gripped, “but you know how he is.  Always a bloody martyr.”</p><p>“I think he’s scared about letting himself care for someone else -- after Sirius,” Hermione said cautiously.  Sirius.  Lily hadn’t made the connection before, but his death must have occurred very recently.</p><p>“Anyone of us could die tomorrow.  Is that any reason not to make the most of today?”</p><p>“None of that now,” Hermione chided.  “Harry’s going to live, and one day you’re going to be a mum.”</p><p>“I always wanted a little girl,” Ginny said wistfully.  Lily smiled despite herself, and was grateful the two couldn’t see her face, or they’d immediately realize she was only feigning sleep.  </p><p>Ginny told her once how grateful she’d been that Lily was a girl and that she hadn’t had to try six times beforehand the way her own mum had.  Harry had been in the room at the time, and had joked that he wouldn’t have minded a few more.  Ginny had fired back that he was welcome to carry them if he wanted more.  That’d been the end of that conversation, but the memory made Lily smile fondly now.</p><p>“Get some sleep.  We’ll come up with a better plan in the morning,” Hermione promised, quietly opening the door.</p><p>“Night, Hermione,” Gin said softly, extinguishing the candle Lily had left burning for Ginny to see when she arrived.</p><p>“Night, Gin,” Hermione replied, closing the door behind her with a tiny click.</p><p>~</p><p>Ginny’s breathing had been slow and steady for close to two hours before Lily risked crawling out of bed.  And she only did then because she was out of time to continue procrastinating.  Any longer and she’d be late to meet Draco.</p><p>Quickly, she grabbed the cloak she’d been covered with earlier and slipped it on, tugging the hood up.  Shielding her face wasn’t necessary yet, but the act made her feel stealthier.  You were what you believed, and all that.  </p><p>Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears the entire way down the staircase of her grandparents’ home.  Nerves rattled her so much that she nearly forgot not to step on the third step from the bottom.  It creaked loud enough that it could be here up in the attic, and the sound of it usually inspired the ghoul to bang against the wall just to not be outdone in terms of startling everyone.</p><p>Lily was in the family room with a handful of shimmering Floo powder before she knew it, but even as she tossed it into the dying embers and called out Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, she expected to be stopped.  But she wasn’t.</p><p>Quickly, she glanced at the clock before stepping into the green flames.  11:54.  She had six minutes.  That was barely enough time.  Possibly she’d be late.</p><p>Fear of what Draco would do if she didn’t show propelled her forward.  </p><p>Luck was even on her side when she arrived in the flat above their store because her uncles were both asleep as well.  Not wasting another second, Lily slipped out and down through the shop, leaving the door unlocked so she could sneak back in afterwards.  Plus there was the fact she didn’t have her key and couldn’t use her wand.  Being underaged was truly frustrating at times.</p><p>Ollivander’s quickly came into sight, and she ducked into the small alley behind the shop as soon as she reached it, not wanting to risk being seen through any of the windows overlooking the street.  Her uncles weren’t the only ones to live above their shop in Diagon Alley.</p><p>Glancing around, Lily saw no evidence of Draco.  Had she beaten him there?  He didn’t strike her as the type to be late.  Whenever he’d come to dinner at her house in the past, he’d either been early or precisely on time.  Punctuality seemed ingrained in his very character.  </p><p>Confusion gave fear a stronger foothold on her.  A million doubts suddenly swamped her, threatening to drown her.  What if this was a trap?  What if Draco had already told the Death Eaters about her?  What if something happened to her before she could return to the Burrow?</p><p>It was slowly dawning on her that this was not the Diagon Alley of her time where she’d be safe venturing out at night.  It had been incredibly reckless coming here without at least telling someone what she was doing.  Everything in this time was unfamiliar to her.  Anything --</p><p>“Aww!” she cried as hands clasped her shoulders from behind, startling her.</p><p>The hold was loose, and immediately she jerked free, spinning to face the person the hands had belonged to.  The hooded figure was shrouded in shadows, and terror had her fumbling to pull her wand free from the pocket beneath her cloak.</p><p>A snort sounded when the tip got caught on the edge of the fabric, the wood slipping from her slick palm to clatter to the ground.</p><p>Flustered, Lily scrambled to retrieve it, feeling around on the dark concrete to locate the sleek wood.  She felt ridiculous, particularly considering she was actually the best duelist in her year at Hogwarts.  Another way she’d tried to live up to her family name, though in this case she actually enjoyed it.</p><p>“I wasn’t sure you’d be brave enough to show up,” the voice drawled from above her just as her fingers closed around her wand.  He sounded very unimpressed by her clumsy attempt at self-defense, and she couldn’t honestly blame him for it.  “Right now it’s a bit difficult to believe you’re related to Potter.”</p><p>“I am,” Lily said angrily, standing to face him while silently berating herself.  He’d lowered his hood, and the moonlight reflected off his pale hair like a beacon.  His fair skin shone in the night, clearly lighting his features.  The frown he wore belied his mocking, overconfident words.</p><p>“Actually, I take it back.  You must be his daughter.  Only a Potter would be this foolish.”</p><p>“Foolish?” she repeated, uncomprehending.  Had her internal monologue spilled out without her realizing it?</p><p>“I could have had a trap waiting for you.  There still might be one,” he explained, impatience filling his voice.  </p><p>He seemed to expect her to be cowering.  But she really didn’t see any reason to.  He’d obviously come alone.  She’d already inadvertently disarmed herself.  If there was a trap in place, that would have been the perfect moment to ambush her, but nothing had happened.  And Lily doubted she needed to fear him.  </p><p>“You wouldn’t do that,” she stated, willing her voice not to tremble and was gratified when it didn’t.  Her chin tipped up a notch as she stared defiantly up at him.</p><p>He watched her, seeming to search for a trick.  Lily watched as his uncertainty melted away, replaced with an angry bitterness that roughly twisted face, screwing it up.</p><p>“Because I’m such a decent person?” he spat, parroting her earlier pronouncement mockingly.</p><p>“Yes,” she confirmed, standing by what she’d said.</p><p>“You don’t know me,” he denied, shaking his head, and retreating a step.</p><p>“Yes, I do,” she insisted.</p><p>“You expect me to believe Potter and I are friends in the future?” he sneered disbelievingly.  “Try again.”</p><p>“I can’t say anything,” Lily groaned, realizing what a predicament she was in.  </p><p>The events of that afternoon were still fresh in her mind, a lingering pain in her temples adding weight to the reality of her situation and the potential dangers she faced should she make a mistake.</p><p>Or was that fresh pain?  It seemed almost as if just being here renewed it, offering a fresh source to feed it.  New blades punctured her temples, piercing deeply. </p><p>“I should take you to the Dark Lord.  Maybe then… “</p><p>“Please, Draco!” Lily begged, grabbing his arms in a desperate attempt to hold him there.  He made no move to leave, but still she gripped the sleeves of his robes, horrified by the possibility that he might carry out the threat.</p><p>Lily may not remember precisely what happened during the second war, but she knew her father was at the center of it, and her knowledge of the first war was still very much intact.  Voldemort’s cruelty was well established, and she had no wish to face him.</p><p>“Then tell me something.  Anything,” Draco commanded, the sharp instruction tempered with a hint of a plea.  “Make me believe you are who you claim to be.”</p><p>“You and my dad work together,” she said, deliberately vague, though even that made the pain worse.  </p><p>Lily tried focusing on the memories she had of Draco.  She’d seen him a half dozen times a year growing up, and he always gave her and her brothers the best Christmas presents.  Elaborate, expensive gifts that were always what she, Jamie, Al, and Teddy wanted the most.  As if he could read their minds when selecting them.  Ginny complained that he spoiled them, but Harry usually just shook his head while wearing an assumed smile.</p><p>He never really paid her any notice.  Usually, he avoided even looking at her.  It had always seemed so strange to her.</p><p>“That’s the best you’ve got?” he said, thoroughly unimpressed.</p><p>“I can’t,” Lily tried again.</p><p>“I’m sure the Dark Lord will have no problem cracking your head open to see what secrets you’ve got hiding in there,” Draco threatened, but it was weaker than it’d been earlier.  Now it merely served as motivation for her to confess more.</p><p>Lily’s eyes closed of their own accord, and she focused on the last time she’d seen him.  It’d been the day before.  Had it really only been a day?  It seemed so much longer since she’d last been at home.</p><p>
  <i>“Mum, can I spend tomorrow at Roxy’s?” Lily asked, using her best innocent expression.  Roxy had owled her earlier in the day inviting her, promising that she had something awesome to show Lily.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ginny hesitated, so Lily looked to Harry for permission.  It was then that she realized Draco was staring at her.  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Ordinarily, he avoided looking at her, so the change was enough to have her demanding, “Why don’t you ever talk to me?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s a rather long and complicated story,” he said, distinctly uncomfortable.  Lily watched as his eyes shifted first to Harry then to Ginny.  She got the distinct impression he was silently begging to be spared from answering.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Well that wasn’t going to happen.  There was no bloody way she was letting this go at that.  Not after he’d been so cagey!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I’m sure I can keep up,” she challenged.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“This is all you,” Harry said in reply to Draco’s silent request, grinning as he sat back to watch.  Jamie, having come by for dinner with the family -- likely because he was out of food at his flat, and Al looked just as interested.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“How about this… Next time I see you, I’ll explain everything,” Draco offered.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” Lily asked dryly, not believing he’d honor that promise for a second.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You play Quidditch, correct?” he asked, causing Jamie to snort.  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>In his mind, it didn’t count unless you were at least as good as him.  Cocky prat.  It really was too bad she loved him so much.  Uncle Fred had some great pranks she’d use on him if she didn’t.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What does that have to do with anything?” Lily asked, wanting him to just get on with his explanation already.  If she had to guess, she’d bet he was stalling in the hopes she’d lose interest or forget what she initially asked.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“My mum taught me.  Most people think it was my father or that he perhaps hired a private instructor --” Draco cut himself off to shoot daggers at her dad.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Don’t look at me!  No private instructor would teach you the wrong grip to hold a broom,” Harry denied, boldly calling him out.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Jamie looked ready to pounce on the statement, but Draco continued before he could, explaining, “That was because my mum had not been allowed to play, so there was no one to correct her.  It was considered beneath her as a pureblood lady already promised to my father by the time she began attending Hogwarts.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oi, still waiting here,” Lily said impatiently, reminding him that she wasn’t dropping the subject.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“My apologies, Miss Potter,” Draco said, inclining his head contritely, though it did little to mask his obvious amusement.  “I momentarily digressed.  How about this?  If I forget to share next time, just remind me that my mother lived through the war.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You are so strange,” she muttered, giving up because he clearly wasn’t going to tell her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Lily!” Ginny scolded.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What?  You know what I mean,” she said defensively.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Harry, why don’t you see Draco out, then we can spend the rest of the evening with Lil since she’ll be gone tomorrow,” Ginny suggested.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The rest of the evening had been spent with the entire family testing out the twins’ new, much more elaborate version of Exploding Snap that they were developing for the store.  It’d been a really great evening, exemplifying precisely why she loved her family as much as she did.</i>
</p><p>“Wait!  Wait, please -- your mum survives the war,” she gasped, trying to clear her head.  The memory clung to her, reluctant to fade, though the throbbing in her temples had lessened significantly.</p><p>“Don’t you dare mention her!  Was that a threat?  Do you know what he’s tasked me to do?” Draco shouted, sounding almost paranoid, or perhaps terrified.  It was hard to tell which as he jerked away, retreating hastily from her.</p><p>“What?  No!  No, I swear I --”</p><p>“You don’t know the first thing about my mum!”</p><p>“I know she taught you to play Quidditch.  And that she taught you to hold a broom all wrong,” Lily tried, tossing out bits from the dinner conversation, grateful now that he had rambled so much, giving her fuel for this conversation.</p><p>“How did you know that?” he demanded, truly shaken by her revelations.</p><p>“You told me,” she said, willing him to believe her.</p><p>“You’re really from the future.  You’re really Potter’s kid,” he stated, mouth falling open in shock.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And you’re sure she’s fine?” he asked, seeking that reassurance.  Lily didn’t know Mrs. Malfoy personally, but Draco had told her to say that she was fine, so she assumed she was.</p><p>Lily nodded, afraid to say more.</p><p>Neither spoke for a long time.  Draco seemed to need a few moments to process that she was, in fact, who she claimed to be.  The silence seemed less oppressive, less threatening than it had when she’d first made her way to their meeting.</p><p>“What else do you know?” Draco asked quietly.  There was fear in the question, but undeniable interest as well.</p><p>“I can’t say anything else.  Not without the risk of changing it -- possibly making it worse,” she admitted.</p><p>“Meaning she might… And since you obviously know me, I might… “</p><p>Lily nodded again. </p><p>“Don’t say anything else then,” he replied immediately.</p><p>“You won’t tell him about me?”</p><p>“No,” he said firmly.  The clipped word possessed such fierceness that she didn’t doubt him for a moment.</p><p>It was in that moment that Lily realized Draco was currently aligned with Voldemort.  She didn’t know why it hadn’t dawned on her earlier, but it hadn’t.  Maybe it was that she’d known him growing up, and seen how friendly he and her dad were.  The two ideas clashed.  Too different to even consider side-by-side.  Yet here they were.</p><p>His response told her something else too.  Draco wanted Harry to win.  Even now.  To protect his mother.  There was no way Lily could ever consider someone that so obviously loved his mother, and would attempt to protect her, as a threat.</p><p>Lily watched Draco, seeing him almost for the first time.  There was a struggle within him, only barely concealed.  A loneliness too.  She could tell.  What was he going through?  Did he have anyone watching his back the way Ron and Hermione watched Harry’s?</p><p>Earlier, Draco mentioned a task.  “What has he asked you to do?” she asked quietly, emphasizing the he so he would not mistake her meaning.</p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p>“I can’t remember.  Since I’ve been here, my memory has been,” Lily paused, searching for the right word to explain her predicament before settling on saying, “unreliable, and a little absent.”</p><p>She waited for him to confide in her, to share what he’d been tasked with.  Fear and distrust waged a war in him.  Neither seemed to be gaining on the other.</p><p>“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised, offering incentive.  </p><p>“Why should I trust you?” Draco asked, slumping wearily against the nearest brick wall.</p><p>“I’m trusting you,” Lily countered.</p><p>“The Dark Lord has demanded that I murder Albus Dumbledore,” he said, shocking her.</p><p>“But you’re not going to do it,” she said immediately.  He wouldn’t be forced to try.  Dumbledore was already dying.</p><p>“I haven’t got a choice,” Draco moaned, revealing, “he’s threatened to kill my mother if I don’t.”</p><p>“Go to Dumbledore -- he’ll protect you both,” Lily suggested, approaching him.  She reached to take his hand but he turned away, giving her his back.</p><p>“That’s so easy for you to say,” he muttered bitterly, shoulders rounding.  He looked so defeated already.  </p><p>It was too big an ask for one so young.  To kill at all.  But more importantly, to kill the greatest, most powerful wizard alive.  The one person Voldemort himself feared, and repeatedly fled from.  The only reason it would make sense for Voldemort to demand this of Draco, was if he was setting him up to fail.  But why?</p><p>And why did it sound like Draco was planning to try, despite the deck being stacked against him?</p><p>“You don’t have to be this person,” Lily insisted.</p><p>“Isn’t it about time you ran back to your little Weasley hovel?”</p><p>“Draco,” Lily tried, more determined than ever to reach him.  </p><p>She knew, knew, that Dumbledore didn’t die at Draco’s hand.  But she couldn’t tell him as much.  Not without potentially changing everything.</p><p>“Go.  I’ll keep your secret.  You don’t have to pretend to care anymore,” Draco said dismissively.  When he turned to face her, a brow raised in expectation, Lily saw his shuttered expression, making it clear he wasn’t willing to discuss the matter further.</p><p>“I wasn’t pretending.  You don’t have to go through this alone,” Lily said, trying again to reach him.  He only stared at her impassively, waiting for her to leave.  “Right.  I’m sure you’ll owl if you decide you want to talk.”</p><p>Still nothing.  Silence.  Giving up, Lily pulled her hood up and began retracing the path to her uncle’s shop.  Lily didn’t look back, but she knew Draco followed her, watching her until she was back inside.</p><p>The lights came on, blazing bright as the sun the instant she stepped into the flat.  Lily froze, eyes squinting against the brightness.  But even in the harsh glare, she could make out two bright red smudges.  Red the same color as her mum’s hair.  </p><p>Great.  Her uncles were awake and waiting for her.</p><p>“Where were you?” George demanded, crossing his arms as he glared at her.</p><p>“Just out.  I needed a bit of fresh air after everything this afternoon,” Lily replied immediately.  “You have to admit, it’s a lot for anyone to take in.”</p><p>As far as lies went, she had to admit it was a pretty believable one.  Too bad neither twin seemed to be buying it.  Probably would have gone over better if she’d been caught at the Burrow coming in from the orchard, but she was working with what she had.</p><p>“What the bloody hell were you thinking, Lily?” Fred yelled, raking his hand through his hair.  Of the two, he was the one she’d have expected to be more understanding.</p><p>“Don’t act like you’ve never snuck out,” she countered, trying to turn the tables on him.</p><p>“Not lately!”</p><p>“Not since things got as bad as they are,” George clarified, trying to impress upon her how serious this was.  </p><p>She swallowed, regretting causing them any worry.  She’d started to realize the same earlier just before Draco arrived, but hearing them say it made it seem even more obvious now.</p><p>“Don’t you know how dangerous this was?” Fred asked, lips thinning into a hard line.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Lily promised, trying to reassure them that no lasting damage had been done.</p><p>“This time you are.  But what about next time?” George acknowledged.</p><p>“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit?  No one knows me,” Lily said weakly, hoping to defuse the situation a little.  Except her words only seemed to rile them up even more.</p><p>“Overreacting?  Today you told me I died during the war, then a second later that I’d be fine.  All of our lives are in your hands.  If You-Know-Who got his hands on you, we’d probably all die -- including you,” Fred ranted, pacing as he spoke.  </p><p>Hearing him lay things out so plainly was a slap in the face.  </p><p>Tonight had been reckless.  Irresponsible and a mistake she could never make again.  Her only excuse was that she’d not been thinking clearly.  Fear, confusion, uncertainty… an unconscious desire to see Draco again… they all played a part in her ending up where she was.</p><p>“You’re our niece.  We don’t want anything to happen to you, and because of who your father is, if something did, it’d be really bad, Lily,” George added, apparently wanting to make amply sure she understood.</p><p>“I’m sorry.  I swear I’ll never do it again,” she promised.</p><p>“You best be getting back,” George said, nodding in acceptance of her apology.</p><p>“You’re not going to tell Gran, are you?”</p><p>“Not this time.  But we are telling Harry in the morning,” Fred informed her unrepentantly.  She swallowed, reaching into the Floo pot he held out to her.</p><p>“And if it happens again, yeah, we’re telling Mum.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4: Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p>
<p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p>
<p>Most of my stories are written with the characters as adults, or at least mature enough to develop an organic relationship.  This story is a little different.  It’s a story of teenagers falling in love, with all the wild hormones and dramatic responses that entails, as well as the thoughtless, impulsive actions young adults are more prone to.  Love comes faster and seems more consuming.  And in this case, with the war, it’s at least partially justified.  I teach high school, so I’m basing my characters and how they view relationships and love off of how my students describe it.</p>
<p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Ch 4: Aftermath</p>
<p>George appeared in Ginny’s room about four hours after the twins had sent her room.  He shook Lily awake, careful not to wake Gin too, and motioned for her to come downstairs with him.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” she asked sleepily, struggling to keep her eyes open after so little sleep as she trudged down the steps behind her uncle.  </p>
<p>“Told you we were telling Harry ‘bout last night.  Fred’s gone to wake him,” George explained, taking a seat on the sofa and nodding at a nearby chair for her to sit in.</p>
<p>“Why so early?” she grumbled, not wanting to have this conversation at all, but especially not yet.  She’d not had a chance to come up with a better lie yet for why she’d been out.</p>
<p>“Shop opens at six,” he informed her.  “Figured we should go ahead and get this out of the way.  Besides, Mum isn’t up yet, so this is the best time for you.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Lily said, genuinely grateful as Fred, followed by a very confused Harry came into the room.</p>
<p>“Well, go on, Lil,” Fred prompted, leaning against the arm of the sofa nearest to his twin.  His arms crossed, and Lily knew he meant business despite the easy use of her nickname. </p>
<p>“I went to Diagon Alley last night,” Lily admitted, shifting in her seat.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Harry said, confusion tugging his eyebrows down behind his glasses.  He glanced at the twins, and something about their expectant looks seemed to penetrate at least a little of the sleepy haze lingering in his brain, because after blinking a couple times, he followed his pronouncement up by asking, “Er… why?”</p>
<p>“Harry, mate, she snuck out,” George pointed out patiently, seeming to expect that to generate a stronger reaction from the dark-haired wizard.  Harry stared at him blankly.</p>
<p>When George didn’t elaborate, Harry confirmed, “Yeah, she said so.”</p>
<p>“A Death Eater could have gotten his hands on her.  You-Know-Who could have,” Fred said slowly, as though explaining that two plus two equaled four to a first grader.</p>
<p>The last finally seemed to get through to him, and Harry’s head jerked back to stare at Lily in horror.  Lily shrank in on herself at the sight.  It was always Jamie that got into trouble in the past, never her.  Knowing she was the cause of his current distress didn’t sit right with her.</p>
<p>“What were you thinking?” Harry demanded, hard voice edged with a razor sharp blade.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t.  Clearly,” Lily acknowledged frankly, shifting her gaze to her lap.  It was easier to watch her fingers playing than it was to continue seeing the concern in her father’s emerald eyes.</p>
<p>“Lily, you could have been killed!  It isn’t safe,” he said quickly, informing her, “You can’t go wandering around.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that exactly what you were doing yesterday when you found me?” she asked defensively, turning the tables on him in a way she’d never have dared with the version of her father that she grew up with.  It was easier to think of him more like she would her brothers given how closely he resembled Al, and she’d never have let Al get away with being a hypocrite without calling him out on it.</p>
<p>“Well… er… yeah, but --”</p>
<p>“No!  Why is it all right for you to do it, and not me?” she demanded, glaring at him.</p>
<p>“Because I understand the dangers,” he said, then winced at how lame the retort sounded to his own ears.  Fred and George watched the by-play, content to let it unfold without any further interference from them now that they’d gotten the ball rolling. </p>
<p>“You mean you’re a hypocrite,” Lily announced, snorting derisively.  It was so like a parent to be all ‘Do as I say, not as I do’.  Which was an all around shite excuse in the first place.</p>
<p>“No,” Harry insisted, scrubbing a hand against his forehead, directly over his scar.  “Lily you can’t take risks like that.  I don’t have a choice, but you do.  I have to fight Voldemort.”</p>
<p>“I want to fight him too,” Lily said immediately.  The idea that she actually could fight, that she could make a difference and help people digging its claws into her.</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Ginny hissed fiercely as she made her way down the stairs.  </p>
<p>She stopped in the entrance of the room, her balled fists planted firmly on her hips.  Judging by her pursed lips, and the daggers she was shooting at Fred and George, she was not happy to have been deliberately left out of the current conversation.</p>
<p>Lily’s suspicions were confirmed as Ginny angrily asked, “I think I caught the gist of things.  But would someone mind telling me why wasn’t I invited to this little intervention -- especially considering it involves my daughter?”</p>
<p>“Well, see…” George began, trailing off and looking to Fred for a save.</p>
<p>“We didn’t want to worry you, and we figured Harry would do a fine job scaring her into not being so reckless in the future,” Fred explained.</p>
<p>“But obviously we made a mistake, and we know better now.  Promise it won’t happen again,” George added when Ginny continued flaying them with her searing look.</p>
<p>The second her mum began to look the slightest bit mollified, Lily returned to what she’d been saving previously, appealing to her father, knowing he’d understand her desire to do what was right and be a part of things, begging, “Dad, please.  It’s the right thing to do.  You always stand up for what’s right.  You never back down.  Let me do the same!”</p>
<p>“My entire family is dead,” Harry said dully, eyes turning glassy as tears formed a shimmering film that was easily detectable.  “If I lost you now…” </p>
<p>“Harry --” Ginny said sadly, but he shook his head stopping her from continuing.</p>
<p>“Sirius only just died,” Harry said, tears openly falling down his face.  He didn’t try to hide them or wipe them away.  Instead, he hoarsely repeated, “If I lost you too?  A daughter -- someone I’m meant to protect above all others, no matter that we’ve only just met…”  He paused, seeming to collect himself before he said simply, “That’d be the end.  I wouldn’t be able to keep going.”</p>
<p>“You taught me how to protect myself,” Lily said gently, watching her father rub his face, erasing the evidence of his fear for her and the pain of his recent loss.</p>
<p>“If you’re in a situation where you’re forced to, then it’s good you can since I can’t always be there to watch over you, but I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger.  Bad enough Malfoy saw you.  No sense taking any more risks,” Harry said glumly, scowling at the mention of Draco.  </p>
<p>Lily opened her mouth to protest, wanting to defend Draco, but thought better of it.  Harry didn’t seem to like him at this point in time, and she had a feeling knowing that he was the reason she’d snuck out wouldn’t go over very well.  And admitting that was probably the only way to convince Harry that Draco wasn’t a threat, and that he’d passed on the chance to turn her over.</p>
<p>“All right,” she agreed, deciding this was one battle she probably wasn’t going to win.  Her mum looked just as determined to keep her from fighting, and she didn’t want her identity used against Harry as it surely would be if she weren’t careful.</p>
<p>“Not bad, Harry.  But it’s a good thing you’ve got a few more years to fine tune your technique,” Fred announced, nodding his approval at how the conversation had gone.</p>
<p>Movement overhead alerted the room’s occupants to the fact Gran or Grandpa was stirring.  The floorboards creaked ominously, echoing in the sudden stillness of the room.  </p>
<p>“We best be getting back to open the shop,” George announced, and as though the move had been choreographed, the twins Disapparated simultaneously with a resounding crack!</p>
<p>Gran entered the room less than a minute later.  Startled to see several people awake before her, she suspiciously asked, “What are you lot doing up so early?”</p>
<p>“Lily couldn’t sleep, so we’re keeping her company,” Ginny said at once without a trace of the lie showing through.</p>
<p>“Oh, you poor dear.  Yesterday was quite eventful,” Gran said sympathetically. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Lily agreed, assuming an innocent expression and going along with things.</p>
<p>“A good meal should help.  Gin, set the table,” Gran ordered, heading to the kitchen and assuming her daughter would do as she was told.</p>
<p>“Can I do anything?” Harry offered, wanting to be useful.  Gran always divided the work up in her time so everyone pitched in for meals, but even then, Gran rarely let Harry help.  Most of the time, he was the only one truly treated as a guest -- much to his chagrin.</p>
<p>“No, Harry dear, I’ve got it.  Why don’t you just stay with Lily,” Gran suggested, waving him off with one hand while the other was busy turning sausages in the frypan on the stovetop.</p>
<p>“Thanks, for not telling her,” Lily whispered.</p>
<p>“Promise me you’ll not do anything like that again,” Harry requested earnestly, hesitantly reaching for her hand.  He gripped it firmly, intent etching deep worry lines across his face.</p>
<p>“I won’t be a kid forever.  I can’t always remain in a safe little bubble,” Lily warned, hoping he understood that even if she didn’t actively fight, she couldn’t remain safely locked up forever.  He understood that by the time she’d traveled back, but Lily had no intention of putting her life on hold until then.  “But I won’t take any unnecessary risks either.”</p>
<p>“Without Sirius around, you’re my biggest weakness,” Harry admitted frankly, sighing loudly and slumping defeatedly in his chair.</p>
<p>“You only just met me,” Lily mused, not really believing that he could possibly care for her as deeply as she did him so soon.  </p>
<p>For her, he’d been the central figure in her life as far back as she could remember, but it wasn’t like that for him.  And even if that was hard to recognize, she didn’t blame him for the discrepancy.  It was a product of their circumstances.  So it seemed strange to her to have him suggest otherwise.  </p>
<p>He’d mentioned something similar earlier, but she’d thought he’d been wrapped up in learning of her foolish actions and wanted to really drive home why she shouldn’t do that again.</p>
<p>“I might not feel like your dad yet, but you already feel like family,” Harry said slowly, struggling to process his feelings and put them into the proper words.  “Maybe we never form that sort of relationship given how things are between us, but you’re already extremely important to me, and I promise that’ll always be the case.”</p>
<p>The rest of those staying at the Burrow began making their way downstairs as the scent of eggs, freshly baked biscuits, sausage, mushrooms, and tomatoes began wafting upstairs.  Bill and Fleur joined them, the two having arrived late the night before and been filled in after Lily had supposedly retired.  </p>
<p>A number of discreet, as well as those not so subtle, looks were aimed her way by the assembled group, but everyone was careful not to ask her potentially damaging questions.  However, Lily was slightly dismayed to discover that she remembered even less than she had the night before.  Spells she’d learned, books she’d read, that was all there.  But her memories of people, faces, interactions -- it was all dim.  A faded photograph with blurred water spots and sun damage that left much of the picture too distorted to make out.  </p>
<p>As a result, Lily remained nearly silent throughout the meal between the others skirting her, and her own preoccupation with what was happening to her.  Luckily, wedding preparations consumed most of discussion with Fleur rattling on and on, determined to have her upcoming nuptials be the center of attention.   </p>
<p>The scowling face of Mr. Malfoy glared at her from the back page of the Daily Prophet, her attention drawn to it when Grandpa shook the pages to resettle the folds as he read.  Lily stared at it in puzzled amazement, momentarily distracted from the distress of her swiss cheese mind.</p>
<p>“Can I see that?” she requested, her question gaining the attention of the entire table.</p>
<p>“Guess the git couldn’t buy his way out this time,” Ron growled almost gleefully.</p>
<p>“Why is he in Azkaban?” Lily asked, accepting the proffered paper.</p>
<p>“He broke into the Ministry last year on Voldemort’s orders,” Harry explained, watching her curiously, almost as though waiting for recognition from her.  He frowned when she simply stared at him blankly.</p>
<p>Gran huffed, swelling up angrily, her cheeks turning a ruddy hue that clashed with her carroty, orange hair.  “I still don’t know what you kids were thinking going there.  Any one of you could have been killed.  When I think about --”</p>
<p>“Molly, they’re fine.  Time to let it go,” Grandpa cut in, soothing his wife with practiced ease, and an absent familiarity that declared he’d been deftly managing her for years without drawing undue attention to the fact.</p>
<p>Guilt shown clearly on Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione’s faces.  Deepening in light of the concern the older individuals were displaying.  Lily blinked, trying to understand and keep up.  Did they mean that her parents had broken into the Ministry and fought Death Eaters?  </p>
<p>There was something about that that sounded familiar, like a story she’d once heard but not paid close enough attention to fully recall, but she couldn’t be certain.  Her mind was apparently too unreliable now.  </p>
<p>She kept that fact to herself as she skimmed the article, not wanting to alarm anyone unnecessarily if it was a temporary state.  Possibly, it was just a side-effect of traveling so far back in time, and it’d right itself in a few hours.</p>
<p>Reading the article answered most of her questions.  The events were outlined and summarized in black and white for her, clearly spelling out that her parents had in fact snuck out of Hogwarts, broken into the Ministry, and taken on Voldemort and his Death Eaters during their fourth and fifth years.  </p>
<p>So much for them cracking down on her earlier.  If she’d known about this, she’d have had much better ammunition to use in her defense.  Not that it mattered anymore.  Not now that she’d promised her dad that she’d be careful and stay safe.  He’d had a point about her being his weakness, and she’d never deliberately hurt him.</p>
<p>As soon as she could, Lily excused herself from helping with the clean up.  She wanted to record everything she still remembered happening in case she continued to forget.</p>
<p>The eagle owl was back.  The sight of it deterred her from her primary objective of recording her memories.  They could wait.  She was far more interested in seeing what Draco had to say.</p>
<p>The elegant creature was poised on the window sill, utterly motionless as she watched Lily’s rapid approach.  Somehow she managed to give the impression that she was looking down her beak at Lily, unimpressed with having to return to deliver yet another letter.  </p>
<p>Curiosity and a flutter of anticipation churned low in her belly as she accepted the letter, and carefully unrolled the expensive, thick parchment.  Nothing but the best for a Malfoy.  Lily had to smother a snort at the random odd thought that filtered through her head, not quite able to recall where the amusing idea had originated from.</p>
<p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>In case I didn’t make things clear enough for you last night, don’t even think of sharing what I told you.  If you do, I could betray your secret just as easily.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p>
<p>Her immediate reaction was fear.  Concern over whether or not he might truly betray her existence to her father’s enemies.  But the sensation of a dry mouth and sweaty palms quickly faded, and she found herself instead rolling her eyes at his macho bravado.  He’d had the chance to sell her out, and he’d not taken it.  It seemed rather unlikely that he’d do so now when he’d be in nearly as much trouble for having spilled his secret to her.</p>
<p>Lily felt a touch of sympathy for him too.  He was very likely scared.  Terrified of failing and having his mother pay the price.  Lily wasn’t sure how willing he’d been to be a part of this war prior to now -- particularly in light of the fact that he was only sixteen -- but she could tell he wasn’t too keen on it anymore.  </p>
<p>But he was stuck.  Stuck until Voldemort was defeated or he was brave enough to seek help.  Somehow Lily doubted he trusted anyone enough to take that chance.</p>
<p>Lily spent several minutes debating how to respond, and knowing he expected one since his owl had stuck around.  In the end, she decided to call his bluff and reiterate his options.</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Threats?  Really?  I thought we’d moved past that.  You have nothing to fear from me, but I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that you’ll go to Dumbledore or someone else for help.  You’re not alone.  Please don’t forget that.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>PS I’m sorry about your father.  I saw the article in the Prophet this morning.</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5: Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 5: Letters</p><p>Four days later saw Harry, Ginny, Ron and Lily playing Quidditch in the orchard.  Boys versus girls.  In no time at all, Lily had developed a sort of friendship with her parents, and she actually had fun hanging out with them.  They’d fallen into a rhythm of easy laughter and bantering, though Harry was still rather solemn much of the time.  Likely mourning Sirius’s passing.  </p><p>They were vastly different from the people she’d known growing up -- what she could still remember at least.  Her memories had continued fading, until all that remained were vague impressions and the thirty or so scrolls of parchment she’d managed to fill.  It was better than nothing she supposed.    </p><p>But since her parents weren’t really capable of acting as parents -- particularly with Ginny actually a few months younger than her, Gran and Grandpa had taken to parenting her.  Ordering her about, and treating her like a ninth child, if you included Harry in the count.  And they certainly seemed to.</p><p>Harry and Ginny were taking their time returning to the Burrow, and Ron had stopped to visit Hermione in the back garden, so Lily ended up alone when the sight of a now familiar eagle owl soared into view, ducking inside the open window without waiting for an invitation.</p><p>Lily had been beginning to wonder if Draco ever planned on responding.  She’d worried that her letter had irritated him so much that he’d decided to write her off altogether.  To say she was pleased that it hadn’t, would be an enormous understatement.</p><p>Eagerly, she snatched the letter and scanned its contents.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Don’t pretend to understand my position.  I doubt you’ve ever been forced to fear for the life of someone you love or had the weight of that responsibility resting solely on your shoulders.  It’s a burden you could never hope to understand.  One wrong move, and I’ll have to live with the consequences the rest of my life.  It’d be enough to make even your brazen self hesitate before approaching your enemy for help.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco </i>
</p><p>
  <i>PS I neither want, nor need your sympathy regarding my father.  His failure is the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.</i>
</p><p>Lily reread the note three times.  Ultimately, she decided not to take offense to his terse, caustic letter.  Stress was probably making him testy, and she wondered if he had anyone else to confide in.  Probably not.  From what she’d gathered in the last few days from the others, all of Draco’s friends’ families were in league with Voldemort.  He couldn’t trust them with his doubts.  They’d be looking for any advantage they could find to win favor with their despicable master.</p><p>No one deserved to be so alone.  And honestly, Draco fascinated her.  She’d dreamed about him twice since their meeting.  He was mysterious and intriguing.  Tortured.  A wounded animal in need of saving, and all of those qualities drew her in.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Fair enough.  Isn’t there anyone in your life you can at least get help from?  A friend?  A mentor?  Do you have a deadline?  And please keep in mind that Harry has a target on his back, so I actually do know a thing or two about your predicament!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>
  <i>PS What’s your owl’s name?  I feel bad not being able to properly greet her.</i>
</p><p>Hopefully, he’d take the hint and keep writing to her.</p><p>~</p><p>Another two days passed before she received a response from Draco. </p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He assigned me the task.  I do not think he’d consider me holding up my end of the bargain if someone else assisted me.  There’s no deadline precisely, but I can hardly think of anything else.  And his patient will only extend for so long.  All the worrying is going to make me prematurely bald.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>
  <i>PS Her name is Thea.  After the Titaness of sight and brightness.  I swear I’d never seen an owl with eyes so bright as hers when I first got her.</i>
</p><p>“Thea?” Lily said, glancing up at the owl.  </p><p>A quick swivel of her head, and Lily saw the brilliant orange of the eagle owl’s eyes, bright as an orange peel.  They were certainly luminous, shining with an eerie, almost magical, glow.  Particularly in contrast with her pale grey face, and brown and tan speckled body.</p><p>“Is Draco good to you?  Even if he does keep sending you back here,” Lily murmured, trying to coax the owl onto her hand.  She’d nicked a few of Hedwig’s owl treats, and she offered one now.</p><p>Laughter burst free as Thea’s head dive-bombed her hand, the treat vanishing in a blink.  Then the owl proceeded to straighten as though she’d not just behaved so undignified.  </p><p>Lily reread the letter, laughing again as she saw the balding comment.  Her memory of the night before she’d traveled back when he’d come to dinner was one of her clearest.  Perhaps because she’d thought of it more recently.  Or maybe because she’d discussed it during this time.  </p><p>Whatever the reason, she could clearly picture an older version of Draco in her mind.  He was striking, even if he was old as her father.  And he was definitely in full possession of his hair, worn just long enough to brush the tops of his shoulders.</p><p>Thea’s wing brushed gently over the fingers clasping the letter.  Apparently, all she’d needed was a little hospitality to warm up to Lily.  She stroked the owl’s soft feathered horns, silently letting her know she appreciated the kindness.</p><p>Quickly, she jotted off a response, not wanting any of her family to stumble upon her and begin asking questions.  Because as far as they knew, she knew no one else during this time, and therefore, had no one to be writing to.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He’s afraid of Dumbledore.  I bet he doesn’t actually care who does it, so long as the one person he fears is eliminated.  So much for being all powerful…  Plus, this way you serve as an example to keep others in line.  Tough luck that.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You have nothing to worry about regarding your hair.  It will always look perfect.  Your skills on a broom are a different story.  You can’t afford to let them get anymore rusty.  Besides, a break to clear your head might do wonders for you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>The next morning Thea was waiting for her when she woke up.  The soft cooing hoots stirring her.  Ginny had already gone down to breakfast, so Thea must have waited until the coast was clear to reveal herself.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m not sure which to focus on, your flattery or your insults.  Not that I should have expected more from a Potter, or a Weasley.  And unfortunately, you are both.  I’m shuddering at the thought -- in case you wondered.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Regarding the rest of what you wrote, that may be the worst part.  My friends see this as some sort of honor.  They don’t understand the reality of what I’m being asked to do.  Or how I have to risk my life taking on someone I know I’m no match for.  And yes, that was painful to admit.  He may be completely insane, but there’s a reason his skills are so renowned.  His duals with Grindelwald and the Dark Lord are well documented, and he’s never been beaten.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>Lily blinked.  Draco had opened up to her.  Much more than she’d expected.  Too bad she didn’t have any new advice or words of comfort for him.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>No offense, but your friends are idiots.  Foolish little kids that don’t understand the severity of consequences.  I don’t think any of you have even considered what it would mean for you to succeed.  You’d have become a murderer.  Taking a life is nothing to aspire to or joke about.  I have no doubt that the act would haunt you for the remainder of your life.  I hope you think about that as you’re weighing your options.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>In terms of your other taunts, don’t read too much into it.  I was simply stating a fact you are too well aware of.  And as for flying, maybe if you practiced more, you’d gain some perspective or at least have a better shot of winning a game this year.  Not that I truly believe you’re a match for Gryffindor.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>Breakfast on the thirteenth was a lively affair.  Gran had made Gin’s favorite, blueberry pancakes, in honors of her only daughter’s birthday.  It struck Lily as immeasurably funny that she was rapidly approaching her sixteenth birthday, but on this day, her mum was only turning fifteen.  Lily was older than her mum.</p><p>“Happy birthday, Gin,” Harry said shyly, handing over a wrapped gift to a startled Ginny.</p><p>“Thanks,” she said, tearing her eyes from his to stare at the rectangular package only just bigger than her hands.  Ginny’s face flushed, red extending down to disappear beneath the edge of her top, and she shifted, tucking the box under the table to rest on her lap rather than open it in front of her family.</p><p>An owl arrived, heading straight to Ginny, and Lily couldn’t help but be disappointed that it hadn’t come for her.  Letters from Draco were all she really had to look forward to, and they kept her on her toes with his prickly temper.</p><p>“That from Dean?” Ron asked moodily, scowling darkly at the scroll as though trying to make it burst into flames with the power of his mind.</p><p>“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s from Luna,” Ginny snapped, piercing him with a look.  Then she ducked behind her letter before quietly adding, “I ended things with Dean.”</p><p>“You did?” Harry gasped, blinking owlishly at her from across the table.  A smile quirked the edges of his lips up.  It was the happiest Lily had seen him look since she arrived.  </p><p>Ron looked nowhere near as thrilled by this development.  His mouth had dropped open and his face had turned a rather alarming shade of puce.  </p><p>“There really wasn’t much point continuing things,” Ginny said, peaking at Harry over the top of the page.  “This with him wouldn’t have lasted.”</p><p>“Don’t be getting any ideas, Harry,” Ron said hotly.  He ignored the death glare Ginny fired at him, focusing on Harry’s hurt expression instead, explaining, “You-Know-Who wants you dead.  You can’t be dragging my sister into that.”</p><p>“It’s not up to you, Ronald,” Hermione interjected, defending the pair.  “You know Harry would never deliberately put Ginny in danger.”</p><p>Harry’s hurt look had morphed into one of fear at having things stated so plainly.  Because Ron wasn’t wrong.</p><p>“Look, mate, when this is all over -- better you than Dean or someone else.  I mean, obviously,” Ron said, trying to lighten the blow his words had dealt.  But from the look of Harry, it was far too late for that.  Ron, seeing it, gestured at Lily, and uncomfortably added, “I mean she has to come from somewhere.  But after last spring, I don’t want to see my sister get hurt again.”</p><p>Ginny, finally fed up with her brother discussing her as though she weren’t sitting right there, or as if she couldn’t decide for herself, hissed, “Maybe you should worry a bit more about your own love life, and stay out of mine.  Oh, wait, you don’t have one!”</p><p>With that, Gin stormed out of the kitchen, leaving a stunned Ron behind.  Honestly!  What had he expected her reaction to be?  Lily would have said the same thing if one of her brothers had butt into her love life -- not that she’d had one, but still!</p><p>“Go after her, Harry,” Hermione advised.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asked, uncertain.</p><p>“Yes!” Hermione said, exasperated.</p><p>When Ron started in on Hermione, Lily excused herself and headed out to the pond, needing an escape from her family’s drama.  Thea found her dozing on the bank a few hours later.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I took your suggestion -- about flying.  I’d forgotten how racing across the sky had the ability to make all of your troubles fall away, like looking at the buildings on the ground, distant and small.  Insignificant.  Do you fly?  Or play Quidditch?  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>You know my darkest secret, yet I know next to nothing about you.  Expect that I’m set to deal a blow to your father, and for some reason, you’re still talking to me.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>“Go on, Thea.  Before you’re recognized,” Lily instructed quietly, the sound of feet tromping closer and grass rustling could be heard in the distance.  Hastily, Lily stuffed the letter in her pocket and laid back, pretending to still be dozing.</p><p>Ginny appeared, took one look at her, and announced, “I know you’re not really asleep.”</p><p>“What gave me away?” Lily asked, opening up one eye, and immediately squinting at the harsh light rimming her mum.  It set her hair aflame, and Lily had to shield her eyes from the brilliant crimson glow.</p><p>“I’m much better at lying and faking than you.  You must take after Harry.  He’s always honest to a fault, and prevarication isn’t in his wheelhouse,” Ginny stated, obviously having given the subject a good bit of self-reflection and critical assessment.</p><p>“What did Harry give you?” Lily asked, changing the subject.  She’d taken to calling each of her parents by their given names after witnessing their discomfort at her use of mum and dad one too many times.  </p><p>“New Quidditch gloves.  They have all these charms to keep them warm and dry, and they have little flowers embroidered in gold thread about the edge and my name.  They’re very pretty, and they actually fit.  I’ve been using Angelina’s old ones, but they’re too big,” she gushed, making it clear how meaningful she found the gift to be.</p><p>“Did Hermione help him with ideas?” Lily asked, surprised he’d come up with it himself given the timid interactions and slowly budding friendship she’d witnessed this summer so far.</p><p>“She swears she didn’t,” Ginny said, satisfaction evident.</p><p>“It’s a pretty thoughtful gift,” Lily acknowledged, smiling as Ginny attempted to stay casual about the whole thing, shrugging instead of beaming at the reminder.</p><p>“Practical too, and…”</p><p>“And proof he noticed you before I came along,” Lily finished, recognizing all the possible implications of that as well.</p><p>They’d not worn proper Quidditch gear during their games this summer, so he must have come up with the idea from what he remembered from the year before.  Lily was happy for Ginny.  Envious too.  How nice would it be to have a bloke fancy her so much he actually paid attention?</p><p>~</p><p>Lily had been forced to wait until the next morning to reply to Draco’s letter since she had to wait for a time she could sneak into Harry and Ron’s room to borrow Hedwig.  Not that the owl was particularly keen to help.</p><p>“Take this to Draco Malfoy,” she requested, tying her letter to Hedwig’s leg.</p><p>The owl turned disapproving eyes on her, and bent to peck her hand sharply.</p><p>“Ow!  Hey,” she chastised, rubbing the abused spot and watching as a drop of blood well up from the fresh wound.  “Please, Hedwig,” she begged, wiping the blood off and adding, “it’ll just be this one time.”</p><p>Lily watched, thinking of the letter -- her longest yet -- as Hedwig soared out with her letter.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yes, I fly.  Love it even.  I would play for Gryffindor -- Chaser, but there are too many others that are even better than myself.  You could say Quidditch is in their blood.  I’d planned to try again this year now that several people graduated and there are new openings, but apparently that wasn’t meant to be.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Potions is my favorite subject.  I’ve always excelled at it, though I’ll admit I had an unfair advantage in the form of a renowned tutor a few years back.  I’ve always been top of my class, but I have a cousin who is even more intelligent, so she is usually the only one recognized for academic accomplishments.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Someday I plan to become a Healer.  I want to help people.  That’s something I’ve never told anyone else, not even my parents, so now you have a secret of mine as well.  I know it’s not in the same league, but I’m a bit more limited in what I can share -- particularly by owl, where it runs the risk of being intercepted.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Your Friend,<br/>
Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>A few days later Remus and Tonks surprised everyone with a visit.  Lily spent much of the evening eavesdropping on Harry’s conversation with Remus over his suspicions of Draco.  Which of course morphed into his concerns over the fact that Draco knew about Lily.</p><p>“There have been no attacks or news regarding her.  If Draco was going to use her as leverage or reveal her existence, he probably already would have,” Remus soothed.  Harry didn’t look the least bit mollified.  Remus sighed and wiped a hand tiredly over his face.  “But I promise I will keep an eye out for her, Harry,” Remus vowed, clasping Harry reassuringly on the shoulder to offer whatever peace of mind he could.</p><p>“Thanks,” Harry sighed, obviously relieved to hear that.</p><p>“Do you mind having an old wolf around tutoring you this year?” Remus asked, looking to her where she’d been pretending to read.</p><p>“Of course not!  I’ve heard what a great teacher you are,” Lily said, deciding not to bother feigning ignorance.  Plus, the extra company would be wonderful.</p><p>“I might come round and help occasionally too,” Tonks said, tipping on her way to sit on the couch beside Lily.  She landed in a heap, righting herself before adding, “Might take a few field trips for special occasions too just to get you out of the house a bit.”</p><p>“Truly?” Lily asked, excited by the prospect.</p><p>“No one likes feeling trapped,” Remus said, sharing a sad look with Harry.  </p><p>“You sure it’s safe?” Harry asked, caution and concern warring on his face, twin guards standing sentry over his daughter.</p><p>“With us two, Bill and the twins probably too,” Tonks said, proving that she’d given the matter some thought already, “we’ll keep her safe, Harry.  Promise.”</p><p>“Can we go to Hogsmeade on my birthday?” Lily asked hopefully.</p><p>“Er, when is your birthday?” Harry said, seeming to just realize he didn’t know.</p><p>“Halloween.  October thirty-first,” Lily admitted, knowing her audience would understand the significance immediately.</p><p>“The anniversary --” Remus breathed, looking at Harry mournfully.</p><p>“Of my grandparent’s deaths.  Yeah.  That’s actually sort of how I got my name,” Lily explained, watching her dad carefully, worried the topic would hurt or upset Harry.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, coming into the room and perching on the arm of the sofa nearest Lily.</p><p>“Dad named my brothers, so Mum insisted that she get to name me.  Then when I was born on that day, with my darker hair, Mum took it as a sign.  The next day, Dad filled the house with a hundred bouquets of lilies to thank her,” Lily said, sharing a memory she knew she’d heard referenced a dozen or more times growing up, but that she only had now because it was something she’d written down and later read about.</p><p>“I never realized you had your father’s flair for romantic gestures, Harry,” Remus said lightly.</p><p>“Well, er…”</p><p>Harry and Ginny stared at each other.  And Remus shot a wink Lily’s way while they did.  Together they watched as Harry and Ginny made excuses about needing air so they could go for a walk in the garden together.</p><p>“I can barely remember my childhood,” Lily told Remus once only he and Tonks remained in the room with her.</p><p>“You mean when you were younger?” Remus inquired, brow crinkled in confusion at her announcement.</p><p>“I mean everything before I came here,” Lily admitted, letting him see how scared she truly was about her vanished memories.</p><p>“When did it start?” Remus asked, suddenly alert.</p><p>“Some things became murky that first day, but when I woke up my second day here, nearly everything had faded, and by my third day, it was all gone.  I wrote down as much as I could, and when I read what I wrote, I can almost recall it, but it’s difficult and painful.”</p><p>“I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before,” Remus murmured, glancing at Tonks.  She wore a matching puzzled expression, and shook her head in denial as well.</p><p>“I was afraid to tell anyone.  Afraid that it might alter more than I accidentally did that first day, but I’m a little scared,” Lily whispered, embarrassed and unsure of herself.</p><p>“I’ll speak to Albus about it, and do some research,” Remus promised, reaching to squeeze her hand reassuringly.  “We’ll find answers, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Lily said thickly, grateful to have his support.</p><p>~</p><p>The next letter contained only a question, and without being able to see him or hear the tone in his voice, she had no idea how to interpret it.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>We’re friends now? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>She wondered if he was serious.  Of course that’s what they’d become.  Hadn’t they?  Didn’t he look forward to hearing from her as much as she did him?  Wasn’t he turning to her for help because he trusted her, and knew she’d not judge him?</p><p>Or had he meant something else entirely with his question?  She didn’t dare go there, afraid she wouldn’t like the answer.</p><p>With a sigh and a more than slight hesitation, she settled on a vague response, putting the Quaffle back in the Chasers’ hands of his team.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>What else would you call us?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>Molly had just ordered the start of packing for the return trip to Hogwarts.  Dirty clothes were gathered from their various bedrooms and handed off before school supplies were collected.  It was amazing how many items had migrated throughout the house and now needed collecting.  Lily had thought it was a little overkill to be starting so soon, seeing as they still had three days of break remaining, but once they got started, it became obvious fairly quickly.  </p><p>Draco hadn’t responded to her last letter.  Lily could hazard a guess as to why.  He was regretting opening up to her so much considering who she was.  He’d probably be embarrassed should any of his “friends” find out he was willingly associating with a Potter/Weasley.  </p><p>Not that they would.  Her very existence was a secret.  But it was the idea of it.  Lily didn’t like thinking that Draco was so easily influenced by the perceptions and expectations of his friends, but she didn’t know what else to think in the absence of a reply after she’d pointed out the friendship they’d developed.</p><p>She wished she could just talk to him.  Sort it out.  See if she could figure out where his head was at.  Because he was all she thought about anymore.</p><p>When Thea arrived with a letter a few hours later, Lily nearly snatched it from her leg in her eagerness to see what Draco had to say.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I want to see you again before term starts.  Will you meet me in Diagon Alley tomorrow night?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>Lily blinked, her lips parting in stunned amazement at the request -- one that echoed her own desires.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6: Confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 6: Confessions</p><p>Lily stared at the letter for almost an hour.  He wanted to see her.  She wanted the same.  The way her heart tried to pound out of her chest each time she thought of him.  How anticipation coursed through her body as she eagerly awaited his replies.  His mesmerizing grey eyes haunted her.  The way they were slowly opening up to one another.  It all added up to an irrefutable truth.  She fancied Draco Malfoy.  </p><p>Except she’d promised not sneak out again.  Watching Harry cry, knowing how much he feared for her safety.  Understanding what was at stake should she be caught.  No.  She couldn’t do it, no matter how much she wanted to. </p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’d like to see you too, but I promised my dad I’d not take any more risks.  Would you come here instead?  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>The reply came only a couple hours later.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You really think my showing up at Weasley’s would go over any better?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>Lily bit her lip, wondering the best approach.  It hadn’t been a flat out refusal.  Perhaps he really did want to see her just as much as she did him.  There must be a way to make it happen!</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You could wait in the garden or the orchard, and I could come to you there.  We live just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole.  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>His next reply arrived right at an hour after she’d sent Thea off with her idea.  </p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.  Meet me outside at eleven -- I already know where it’s at.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>“He’s coming here!” Lily squealed excitedly, clutching the note to her chest.  </p><p>Thea gave a tired hoot in acknowledgment as she watched Lily’s antics.  The poor creature looked exhausted, and she gratefully accepted the water and treats Lily offered her, consuming half a bowl while Lily hurriedly scribbled her note on the back of his, too impatient to waste time searching out a fresh sheet of parchment.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ll meet you then.  Don’t be late!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>She’d gone for casual teasing, not wanting to reveal too much of her feelings in case he didn’t return them.  But considering how he’d begun trusting and confiding in her, surely he felt similarly.</p><p>The rest of the day was spent trying to conceal her growing excitement.  No one seemed to notice, the Burrow’s inhabitants all too caught up in packing and worrying about the upcoming year.  Since Lily wouldn’t be returning with them, she was excused from much of their chores, and able to slide under the radar.</p><p>That night, she waited on the wooden bench near the roses her gran tended to while listening to the chickens in the nearby coup occasionally cluck.  Fireflies flickered, the light pulsing like the beat of a heart, illuminating her surroundings.</p><p>Draco flew into sight at five minutes before eleven, displaying all the punctuality she expected from him.  He hopped off his broom easily, hair windblown and messy as he strode over to stand only a foot away from her.  He was tall, and she had to tip her head back to look into his eyes.  They were even brighter than she remembered.</p><p>Neither spoke at first, each too busy taking the other in.  A sense of disbelief filled the air, swirling about them like a hurricane.  Lily discreetly pinched her arm, making sure this wasn’t a dream.  The brief stab of pain told her it wasn’t.</p><p>“You fly really well,” she said quietly.  He’d been very graceful in the air, handling the broom as though it was an extension of his body and demonstrating complete control over the movements he made.  He’d made flying look nearly as effortless as Harry did.  Nearly.</p><p>“I thought you said I needed practice?” he asked, bemused.</p><p>“I take it back,” she said, shrugging.</p><p>“Maybe we could go together sometime,” he suggested, voice wavering and touched with uncertainty.</p><p>He was nervous.  Lily’s lips parted at the realization.  It was almost confirmation that he was beginning to view her with equal interest.</p><p>Boldly, she asked, “Like a date?”</p><p>“We’re in the middle of a war.  On opposite sides at that.  Not really the best time for dating, wouldn’t you agree?” he said, searching her face, almost daring her to disagree.</p><p>“Maybe it’s the best time.  Who knows if we’ll get the chance again afterwards,” she retorted, taking a step closer and lifting her chin stubbornly.</p><p>“This is insane,” he declared.</p><p>Lily’s breath caught as he lifted a hand to cup her face, his thumb stroking over the arch of her cheekbone, soft as a flower petal.  </p><p>“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she admitted frankly, letting him know that friendship wasn’t what she was seeking from him.</p><p>“I’m having the same problem,” he agreed, bending to press his lips to hers.</p><p>The kiss was gentle, tentative, exploring.  Carefully, his mouth grazed her own, giving her a chance to retreat.  The hesitation didn’t last long.  The instant her arms wrapped around his neck, the hand at her cheek threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her head and locking her to him. </p><p>His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened immediately to the heated caress, giving him the access his body requested.  Their tongues dualed, passion infused in each touch.</p><p>Fire surged through her veins, igniting her from within.  His kiss brought her roaring to life.  Need and desire and longing welled within her, overflowing.  Her head spun and shivers ran up and down her limbs, heedless of the summer heat and the warmth emanating from the one that held her so close that not an inch separated their bodies.</p><p>His lips commanded hers, taking possession of her completely.  Lily felt a hand slip down her side and around to her back, tugging her even closer.</p><p>With a rudeness that tore a whimper from the depths of her soul, Draco broke the kiss.  Though his forehead remained pressed tightly to hers and his panting breaths fanned her face, matching the tempo of her own unsteady breathing.  </p><p>“This will never work.  You’re Potter’s daughter,” he gasped.</p><p>“That’s just one part of who I am,” Lily insisted, scratching his scalp lightly where her fingers had woven into his soft platinum locks.  He shivered when she did, and she rewarded him by repeating the action.</p><p>“It’s a pretty big part.  He and I have been enemies for years,” Draco said, sighing and releasing his hold on her.  </p><p>Reluctantly, Lily stepped back, taking a deep breath and bracing herself before asking, “Why do you hate him?”  Draco said nothing, but his face scrunched in contemplation.  “Draco?” she prodded.</p><p>“He made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be friends when we first met,” he finally explained, but the shuttered look in his eyes told her that wasn’t the full story.</p><p>“Were you as abrasive then as you have the tendency to be now?” Lily asked, calling him out on his prickly behavior thus far in their acquaintance.  </p><p>“I’m not abrasive.  I just have standards,” Draco sneered, turning a disdainful look on her family home.</p><p>It took no effort to determine what he thought of the leaning house with the chicken coup out back, the stack of galoshes littering the back porch, and the broken wooden fence circling the property.  Even his suddenly stiff posture denounced the home of being unworthy of his presence.  He was so undeniably arrogant.  Unfounded superiority oozing from him in a way that chafed her raw. </p><p>“And where have those standards gotten you?” she demanded, making her opinion clear about just how ridiculously naive she found him to be.</p><p>“I’m not going to overhaul my entire belief system for you,” he said, frowning at her, as though she were the one with mistaken beliefs and unrealistic expectations.</p><p>“I’m not asking you to,” Lily stated calmly, then crossed her arms and studied him.  </p><p>He was a walking contradiction.  He loved his family, believed they were above everyone.  But he didn’t want to follow Voldemort, and he’d seemed relieved upon learning Harry would triumph.  </p><p>Perhaps he truly did believe that Purebloods were better.  Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to know how to reconcile that with everything else going on in his life.  Nor did he seem to understand why he believed what he did.  </p><p>“But are you sure you do believe in everything your father taught you?” she asked, guessing that his currently imprisoned father was the basis for his attitude, and that he was uncomfortable questioning what he’d always been taught.  </p><p>It was not unlike a person questioning their religious or political beliefs for the first time.  It seemed wrong to do so.  To dare consider believing differently than their parents or what they’d been raised to believe.  But everyone had to eventually make those sorts of decisions for themselves based on what worked best with their world views.</p><p>“I’m a Pureblood,” Draco said simply, voice clipped and undeniably angry.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“We’re better.  We are meant to rule,” he said, smirking and glancing at her grandparents’ home once more.</p><p>“First off, can you really say you are ruling?  Or are you at the mercy of your master -- forced to carry out his orders?  Like a servant.”</p><p>“Don’t!  You know --”</p><p>“Second, can you honestly say you’re better when Hermione, a Muggle-born, has scored higher marks than you in every subject, every year?”</p><p>“That’s because the teachers all favor her,” Draco insisted, frowning.</p><p>“Excuses.  If you were really better, using them would be beneath you.  If you were actually, truly better, you’d be able to admit when you’d been bested,” Lily said firmly.</p><p>“What would you know about --”</p><p>“My cousin is better than me.  Smarter.  It rankles to admit it, but it’s the truth,” she said, gritting her teeth afterwards.  It was one of the few solid facts she’d retained from before she’d time traveled.  Rose, her cousin and Al’s best mate, was the most intelligent individual she knew, rivaling even her mother.</p><p>Draco looked ready to continue arguing.  Instead, he growled loudly, “Augh!  I don’t know how to make sense of anything.”</p><p>“It’ll get easier.  Start by trying to think for yourself, and form your own opinions based on your experiences -- not anyone else’s word,” Lily suggested, heart going out to him.</p><p>Reaching out, she took his hand.  He watched as she threaded her fingers between his own.  A look of indescribable vulnerability came over his face.</p><p>“I know one thing for certain -- I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he acknowledged quietly.</p><p>This time Lily initiated the kiss.  He tasted of honey and Butterbeer.  A warm summer day laughing and playing.  Almost at once, his arms found their way around her, pulling her flush against him.</p><p>“Will you keep owling me this year?” she requested, her lips continuing to brush his as she spoke, their noses bumping teasingly.</p><p>“It’s the one thing I have to look forward to,” he replied, playfully nudging her nose with his again.</p><p>“Promise me you won’t just follow blindly,” she begged, needing to hear that he’d seriously take what they’d discussed earlier into consideration.  </p><p>She wanted to be with him, to see where this might go, but she could never be with someone who supported the monster that threatened to destroy the people she loved.  Or even innocent people for that matter.  Knowing he’d one day become friends with her family only went so far.  She wanted him to discover his conscience. </p><p>“My hands are tied, surly you understand,” Draco said pleadingly, willing her to understand that he could only do so much while his mother’s life was on the line.</p><p>“I do.  I’d do anything to protect my family,” she agreed, knowing what a predicament Voldemort had placed him in.  But of course that had been the point.  He was a master manipulator.  Why else would he have so much power?</p><p>Draco’s forehead fell to her’s again, and the hands at her waist squeezed gently.  She swallowed thickly, relishing the contact.  Such a simple touch produced an enormous reaction in her body.  Fuel for the inferno raging within.</p><p>“What a mess,” he muttered.</p><p>“It won’t always be,” she promised.</p><p>“You mean once Potter wins,” he said dully, sighing wearily.</p><p>“Isn’t that better than always living in fear?”</p><p>He hummed a sort of acceptance to her question as his fingers traced light circles over the small of her back.  The sound tangled with the chirping crickets and lush heat of the summer night.</p><p>“What is this?” he asked, pulling back just enough to stare at her.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said wonderingly, shaking her head and shrugging.</p><p>He bent to capture her lips a final time, claiming them with a searing brand that marked her as his. </p><p>“I should probably be heading back,” he said reluctantly when he broke away.</p><p>“Probably,” she agreed sadly.</p><p>Silently, she watched his retreating form shrink into nothing, the black of night swallowing his cloaked figure entirely too soon before she slipped back into the house, absently noting it was already after three in the morning.</p><p>~</p><p>Remus came by the night before everyone was set to return to Hogwarts.  His robes were worn and old, and fresh marks covered his neck and cheek.  At one point during his visit, he caught her eye, and gave a sad nod.  Lily blinked.  Did that mean he knew what was wrong with her memory?  She’d have to make a point to speak to him before he left.</p><p>Currently, however, Harry had pulled Remus aside for a private chat and Lily was listening in, trying to see if he’d mention Draco again.  Somehow everything had been relating to Draco in her mind ever since his visit.  Remus and Harry had gone upstairs when Remus first arrived and Lily wondered what they were getting up to.</p><p>“I have a favor to ask,” Harry informed the older man, shifting nervously as he looked at him.</p><p>“You know that I’d do anything for you, if it is in my power to do,” Remus promised, urging Harry to open up and ask.</p><p>“I know you already agreed to, but will you watch over her -- Lily -- for me.  Keep her safe, like you’ve always tried to do for me,” Harry requested earnestly.</p><p>“I’ll admit, I’ve failed you in that on more than one occasion,” Remus said tiredly, taking a great deal of the burden onto his shoulders as a he ran a hand through his shaggy sandy-blond hair.</p><p>“I don’t always make it easy.  I think she’ll be less of a challenge.  And I trust you to look out for her,” Harry said jokingly.  Lily felt bad that he even needed to ask at all.  From what she’d read of her life.  Jamie and Al had been the wild ones.  She’d always been reliable.</p><p>“I won’t let you down,” Remus vowed, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as he spoke.  “Sirius would come back to haunt me if I did.”</p><p>The conversation drifted to other subjects regarding the war, and Lily tuned their voices out.  It wasn’t as though she could help anyways.  </p><p>When emus found her an hour later, he said, “About our last conversation, I spoke to Albus.”</p><p>“And?  What did he say?” Lily demanded impatiently.  She wanted answers.  Was she going to continue forgetting?  Was it a sign of something worse occurring?</p><p>“It was him.  He did it,” Remus said, lips thinning to a tight, disapproving line.</p><p>“What?” Lily breathed, stunned.</p><p>“Each time you inadvertently revealed something, it made changes to the timeline you knew.  He believed it was prudent to limit how much you could change to prevent you from accidentally altering it so much that you caused yourself to vanish entirely,” Remus explained gently, watching her closely.</p><p>“So he erased my memory without telling me?” Lily demanded, undeniable feelings of having her mind violated overwhelming her.  </p><p>“He was concerned that if something happened to you, Harry would be unable to do what needs to be done,” Remus admitted, wincing at the truth behind the statement and the slightly selfish motivations driving it.  “He also didn’t want you having the responsibility of trying to change things.  It’s too heavy a burden for anyone to bear.”</p><p>“But… but…” Lily argued, unable to find words.  She paused, swallowed, and tried again.  “What exactly did he do to me?”</p><p>“He caused your memories of the war and your family to fade.  Once an event happens in this timeline, and knowledge of it that you had will come back to you, but not until after the events have already occurred,” Remus explained, talking her through the complex magic Dumbledore performed on her without her knowledge.  It reminded her of what she’d written about Hermione, and what her aunt had done to her own parents.  Expect that hadn’t turned out to be reversible.</p><p>“What if he finds a way to send me back?” Lily asked, dreading the answer.  Judging by the expression on Remus’s face, she shouldn’t have even bothered asking.</p><p>“There isn’t one.  And he knew there were already too many demands on his time this year to find one before any damage was done,” Remus admitted sympathetically.  “I’m so sorry, Lily.  I know this wasn’t fair to you.”</p><p>“I understand,” she said dully, feeling hollowed out and empty just then.</p><p>~</p><p>The next morning everyone was rushing about finishing last minute packing.  Controlled chaos at its finest.</p><p>Harry and Ginny cornered her just before it was time to go, and presented her with the most beautiful golden-masked owl she’d ever seen.  The face mask was perfectly shaped like a heart outlined in a rich brown, and his feathers were unmistakably gold with dark chocolate markings scattered throughout his plumage.</p><p>“But why?” she gasped, accepting the proffered cage.</p><p>“So you can write to us,” Ginny said dryly, making it sound as though it should have been obvious to her.  “What else are owls for?” she added with a roll of her eyes.</p><p>“I know how lonely it can be on your own, and I wanted you to have a way to keep in touch with us,” Harry explained, though he seemed supremely uncomfortable opening up the way he was.</p><p>“We’ll miss you,” Ginny added, saving Harry from being on the spot any longer.</p><p>“Thank you.  I promise I’ll write all the time,” Lily said, staring at the owl, who was watching her with equal fascination.</p><p>“You better,” Gin said, throwing her arms around Lily for a fierce hug.</p><p>Lily hugged her back just as tightly, and asked into her mum’s shoulder, “Does he have a name already?”</p><p>“You can rename him, but Remus was calling him Helios when he dropped him off for us yesterday,” Harry replied.</p><p>So that’s what the two had been doing last night!  Lily had wondered what they were sneaking about for.  Then she thought about the name.  Helios was the Titaness, Thea’s, son.  She liked the unconscious connection to Draco. </p><p>“No, Helios is perfect for him,” she declared, already playing to write Draco and show off her new owl.  If she was stuck here, there was no point not indulging in whatever fling that was turning out to be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 7: Confrontation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p>
<p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p>
<p>The next few chapters are written from Draco’s perspective.  This is the very beginning of his journey from arrogant, entitled prat to brave, honorable hero.  He’s still mostly a git right now, but the potential for change is there.  </p>
<p>I hope everyone has a happy holiday and that you stay safe! Here is my present to you!</p>
<p>Any dialogue you recognize is from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. </p>
<p>PS I’m not J. K. Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Ch 7: Confrontation</p>
<p>“Crucio,” <i>the Dark Lord said casually, idly watching one of his lackeys withering on the ground.  </i></p>
<p>
  <i>Draco wasn’t even sure that the man had done anything wrong.  From the look and sound of things, this was solely for demonstration purposes, and the man was unlucky enough to have been chosen to set an example for Draco.  A way for him to see what failure looked like.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Ahhhhh!” the Death Eater screamed.  Draco thought it might be Gibbon or perhaps Rowle.  Hard to tell with the mask on.  “P-Pleaseeeee,” the man wailed, agony breaking the word like so much splintered and shattered glass.  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Why is there still no word on where Albus Dumbledore has been going this summer?  How is young Mr. Malfoy here...” the Dark Lord said, feigning sadness as he momentarily focused his attention on Draco.  Well, Draco supposed that was what he was attempting to display.  Difficult to tell with the flat, slitted nostrils and red snake eyes.  They didn’t exactly portray normal human emotions.  More, they just screamed monster.  “...supposed to achieve his task if you can’t provide him with relevant and current intel?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco tried not to cringe as he fought back the instinct to hide.  He hated having the Dark Lord’s attention on him.  Hated being around him.  It never boded well.  The skeletal pallor and mutated features were so foreign and other that it made Draco feel nauseous every time he took them in.  </i>
</p>
<p><i>“Nothing to say?  Shame.  </i>Crucio,” <i>the Dark Lord said again, the edges of his mouth tipped up.  It was a mockery of a smile.  The man didn’t have lips.  Not in the traditional sense, but Draco still felt the Dark Lord’s amusement as the tortured man twisted in on himself, suddenly losing control of his bowels and soiling himself.  The foul odor made Draco gag.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Still he contorted on the floor.  His limbs seizing and spasming, his fingers becoming desperately scrabbling claws.  Tiny jerks, invisible electrical wires zapping the poor sod over and over again.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>When his mother and Bellatrix entered, Draco felt his heart lurch.  If he failed, that wouldn’t just happen to him, but his mother too.  He couldn’t bear to consider his mother enduring such shame.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Oh, Master, let me.  Please, allow me to take over, to punish him for you.  It would be such an honor,” Bellatrix begged, prostrating herself at the Dark Lord’s feet, and staring up at him with such adoration that Draco was forced to swallow back the vomit that suddenly filled his mouth.  Bellatrix wore the same expression that their remaining house-elf, Twitchy, wore when she served anyone in the family.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It was pathetic and disgusting.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Seeing it the first time, when he’d come home for Easter Hols the prior spring -- incidentally, the first time he met the Dark Lord and his Aunt Bella too -- was the first time he questioned his family’s position and decision to side with the Dark Lord.  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Why were they expected to bow and follow orders?  Dumbledore didn’t make his followers do that.  Yet now the Malfoys were meant to obey, or suffer the consequences.  And where were all of these vaunted rewards?  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>So far, there’d been no glory.  No prestige.  No fun.  No nothing.  Except talk of Potter.  All anyone ever cared about was the stupid, speckled git!  He wasn’t that special, but he was at the center of every plan.  Not to mention, the reason behind every failure since.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Why was it always Potter?  Dumbledore’s little favorite golden boy.  He wasn’t so special.  Certainly not as smart as Draco.  Yet he got all the attention.  All the fame.  Always breaking rules and never punished properly for it.  Because he was the fucking Boy-Who-Lived.  As if that made him special.  And now it’d been nonstop talk of Potter for weeks.  And it was Potter’s fault that Draco’s dad was locked up, and now he was being punished when he didn’t deserve to be!</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Nothing about the Dark Lord or this experience was how his father used to describe it.  Draco had grown up hearing stories about the glory days.  The time when the Dark Lord reigned and Lucius Malfoy basked in the power and connections his position within the inner circle provided him.  A time when the undeserving suffered at the hands of the strong.  When being a mighty Pureblood meant something.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>From the way his father described the way things used to be, the whole world trembled in fear of their family, bending over backwards to give them anything and everything they desired.  They were celebrities.  And the possibility of instant gratification was theirs for the taking.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco had yet to experience anything of the sort.  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Fear.  Pain.  Threats.  Punishment.  Mortification.  Degradation.  Servitude.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>That had been his hell for the last month.  Day in and day out, all he knew was his ‘Master’s’ rage and impossible demands.  Then, to find himself bowing and scraping, afraid in his own home.  It was galling.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But what choice did he have? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>His mother’s life was on the line.  He could not fail her.  He would not.  There was nothing for it.  He’d have to visit Borgin and Burkes.  See if there was a way to fix the stupid cabinet.  If he could, then he might stand a chance.  Once his father was released from Azkaban, things would get better.  They’d have to.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It wasn’t like they could get worse.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“No, Bella.  You’ve shown that I cannot trust you to see the job through.  Not as you once did,” the Dark Lord taunted, throwing the incident at the Ministry in her face once again.  He’d already done so at every opportunity.  Yet still she begged, desperate to regain his favor.</i>
</p>
<p>Draco blinked, bringing the scene before him into focus.  Here he was, a month later, and nothing had changed.  All right, a few things had changed.  The Death Eater currently being tortured hadn’t shit his pants or pissed himself this time, unintentionally filling the room with the stomach-turning scent of ammonia and feces.  And his aunt wasn’t begging like an overeager puppy.  </p>
<p>But he was still watching a masked Death Eater being tortured as a warning.  This time Mr. Goyle, his best mate, Greg's, dad.  But his mum had been brought in again as well to really drive the point home.  As if Draco needed the reminder of the consequences should he fail.  As if he could have forgotten.  </p>
<p>As if Lily… <i>Lily Fucking Potter</i>… would let him forget either.</p>
<p>He’d kissed her.  The night before, he’d flown to the Burrow, and kissed the girl.  He’d not meant to.  Not planned to.  Yet somehow, that was precisely what he’d ended up doing.  </p>
<p>And he couldn’t wait to do it again.</p>
<p>Lily was… mesmerizing.  She was full of life and passion.  A force of nature.  A beautiful, fiery tempest.  Utterly unique and intriguing.  She didn’t care that he was a Malfoy.  Neither the good nor the bad bits of what that entailed.  She questioned him, made him question himself.  And he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the second they met.</p>
<p>Draco was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that she was related to Potter.  It hardly seemed possible.  She was so much better than her dad.  In every way.  Lily didn’t turn her nose up at people.  Not like Potter had when Draco first tried to be friends with the ungrateful brat.  Lily didn’t judge him either.  She was understanding and sympathetic to his plight.</p>
<p>Thank Merlin Professor Snape had insisted Draco learn Occlumency the year before.  He’d said it was necessary to keep Dumbledore from learning anything from Draco.  He’d felt important at the time, having secrets that he needed to keep from their crackpot headmaster.</p>
<p>Somehow his father had still ended up in jail.  But at least he now had the skills to keep his thoughts of Lily Potter to himself.</p>
<p>Careful to keep all evidence of what he was feeling from his face, Draco patiently waited for the lesson to end.  Term began the next day, and he still needed to finish packing.  He couldn’t wait to get away from his home.  Probably for the first time ever.  And all because his home had stopped feeling like a home.</p>
<p>When the Dark Lord finally dismissed him, his mother followed him out, dogging his steps all the way back to his room.  Draco had no idea what she was on about, but her expression made him nervous.  Didn’t she realize how dangerous it was for her to be so openly concerned?  The Dark Lord would use it against them!</p>
<p>“Draco, I’ve found a way to save you,” Narcissa breathed, hastily shutting the door to his room and looking furtively about.</p>
<p>“I’m not the one in need of saving,” Draco insisted, frowning at her.  There was a feverish glint in her eye, and her normally pale cheeks were scarlet.  What had her in such a state?</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do this.  Severus has agreed to do it for you,” Narcissa said, sagging onto Draco’s bed and holding a hand out to him.</p>
<p>“What have you done, Mother?” he demanded, alarmed by the risk she must have taken in going to Severus.</p>
<p>The Dark Lord had set him the task for a reason.  What if he punished his mother for her interference with his plans?  Why would she do it?</p>
<p>“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.  He has agreed to kill the headmaster for you,” Narcissa continued, unaware of the fear that now gripped her son.  </p>
<p>“Why would you do that?” Draco gasped, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.  They sounded raw and guttural, strained and thinned until they’d become a bow string ready to snap.  And the painful backlash would draw blood when it inevitably did.</p>
<p>“For you.  You’re only a boy.  You --”</p>
<p>“I’m not a child!” Draco yelled, abruptly furious at her for her insistence in treating him like a baby.  When would she see that he had grown?  That he was capable of stepping up and taking care of her for a change.  With his father gone, it fell to him to protect her.  But how could he if she was going to undermine him?</p>
<p>“Draco, you must understand why I had to do this,” Narcissa begged, gripping his hand and pulling him down to sit beside her.  Her blue eyes were huge as they stared at him pleadingly.    </p>
<p>“Do you honestly think the Dark Lord will accept this?” Draco asked darkly, shaking his head in answer to his own question.</p>
<p>“He wants Dumbledore dead.  He doesn’t care how it happens,” Narcissa said stiffly, pursing her lips.</p>
<p>“If that was the case, he’d have made it a blanket order for everyone to try, and offered a reward to whomever succeeded,” Draco challenged.  </p>
<p>They both knew he was correct.  This impossible task he’d been set had everything to do with his father’s failure.  His friends might be impressed, wrongfully believing he was being given an honor, a way to advance that they envied.  </p>
<p>But every adult knew the truth.  </p>
<p>The Dark Lord was through with the Malfoys and ready to have gone of them.  They were of no more use to him.  Broken toys in need of discarding.</p>
<p>“I… I cannot let you suffer for your father’s mistakes.  You are my child --”</p>
<p>“I am not a boy!  And he will punish us worse if it is Snape and not myself that kills Dumbledore,” Draco argued, clutching her hands firmly in his own, attempting to press the truth into her palms.  He understood she was scared, but this only made things worse.</p>
<p>Draco had no idea if he could truly trust Severus Snape.  The man was a spy for crying out loud!  Who knew which side he truly served.  Worse, Draco didn’t know which one he’d prefer his Potions Master to be aligned with in truth.</p>
<p>“I don’t want this for you,” Narcissa moaned, freeing her confined hands to bury her face in them.</p>
<p>“It’s a little late for that,” Draco said dryly, unable to keep the bitter resentment entirely from his voice.  He didn’t blame his mother.  She’d always tried to protect him.  This mess was entirely his father’s doing.</p>
<p>Idly, he wondered if she was referring to the task, which involved becoming a murderer.  Or if it was becoming a Death Eater at all.  She’d never seemed particularly enamored with the idea of the Dark Lord returning, for all her husband lamented and longed for it to happen.</p>
<p>“At least use Severus as a resource,” she begged, but Draco barely heard her.  His mind was already traveling down a different path.  Curiosity gripping him.  “He can help you.  You’ll have a much better chance with someone on the inside.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you go to the Order?” Draco asked quietly, studying his mother closely.  “For help, before it came to this.  Before --”</p>
<p>“Draco!” she hissed, glancing fearfully at the closed bedroom door.  That reaction said so much.</p>
<p>“Your sister…” Draco tried.  </p>
<p>Andromeda Tonks, his aunt, was never mentioned in their household.  But Draco had been wondering.  Ever since he met Lily.  Ever since he realized he wanted out.  And his Auror cousin, known member of the Order of the Phoenix might just be the way.  </p>
<p>Because Lily was a beacon of hope.  It was just too bad there were a million traps and pitfalls separating them.  She was unattainably distant.  A lighthouse with a rocky shore between them.  If he tried to approach, his ship would be bashed to bits and he’d drown.</p>
<p>“Bella --”</p>
<p>“The other one.  She’s family.  Why didn’t you go to her?  Before you let him brand me,” Draco clarified, feeling a child’s hurt that his mother hadn’t stepped in and stopped the Dark Lord from hurting him.  She insisted on viewing him as her baby, but she’d failed to protect him that day.  And it was that day, that Draco had been forced to grow up.</p>
<p>The searing pain of the brand still hadn’t faded.  It still felt like his arm was roasting over a bed of roaring flames, the skin blistering and boiling.</p>
<p>He’d once thought the tattoo a cool design.  Daring and badass.  Now it was just a mark of his new reality where he was the Dark Lord’s slave.  A minion to be used and sacrificed at will.  He wasn’t valued or prized.  Not by the one that had chained him.</p>
<p>“Quiet.  Do not speak such things here,” Narcissa said, swallowing and checking that the door was still closed.</p>
<p>So that was the reason.  Fear.</p>
<p>“Would you want out?” Draco asked, watching her carefully.</p>
<p>“That is not an option for us,” Narcissa said brusquely, a hard set to her chin.  “If you had made friends with Potter, perhaps… but…  Well, that’s that.  Now, no more of that.  Promise me.  And promise me you will go to Severus if you have need of help.”</p>
<p>Draco still wasn’t sure he trusted Severus Snape.  Perhaps Lily knew if he could.  He’d have to ask her in his next letter.</p>
<p>Narcissa watched him expectantly.  “I will, Mother,” Draco finally agreed.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Draco was still in a rotten mood when he boarded the Hogwarts Express the next day.  He felt a sense of doom hovering about him.  Worse, he was surrounded by his friends, but the only person he wanted to talk to was Lily, and he couldn’t.  She wouldn’t be attending Hogwarts with the rest of them.  And it would look too suspicious for him to send an owl while on the train.  He’d have to wait until after the start-of-term feast to write her again.  </p>
<p>“Where was Malfoy going that day?” </p>
<p>The sound of Potter’s voice floated in from the crack in the window of his compartment.  Draco eased it open a bit more and tried to listen to the whispered conversation taking place on the platform.  It was difficult to hear over the clamor of his friends, but he managed to catch the gist of it.</p>
<p>“He was probably buying school supplies.  Same as you were, Harry.  I doubt it was anything more than that,” Mr. Weasley insisted.</p>
<p>“Without his mum?  We saw them together in Madam Malkin's.  He didn’t want her touching his left arm.  He’s taken the Mark.  I know it!  Why would he give his mum the slip if he wasn’t up to something?  And why hasn’t he told anyone about… well, <i>her</i>?”</p>
<p>“It’s hard to judge a person’s motives.  But I think you’re wrong about the Mark.  You-Know-Who doesn’t need students in his inner circle.  He’s got no use for them,” Mr. Weasley insisted.  Potter looked ready to argue, but Mr. Weasley held up a hand to forestall him, and continued, “Look, you better get going, but I promise we’ll keep our ears open to any mention of her.  You needn’t worry.  Just focus on your studies and stay out of trouble.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Potter said dubiously.</p>
<p>So Potter suspected that Draco had already taken the Mark.  Had he really been that obvious?  Or was Potter just that much more clever than Draco had ever given him credit for?  </p>
<p>At least no one else was taking his warnings seriously.  That would have made things so much more difficult for Draco.</p>
<p>“Draco?  Aren’t you coming?  We have our Prefect meeting and our duties,” Pansy Parkinson simpered, sliding over on the bench to wrap a tentacle-like arm around him.  </p>
<p>“Not going,” Draco muttered, scowling at her and trying to shake her off.  She clung to him, tighter than a tendril of Devil’s Snare.  Prefect duties seemed so meaningless in the face of everything else he had going on in his life.  What was the point of telling off first years?</p>
<p>“But you have to!  It’ll give us a chance to spend time together,” Pansy insisted, battering her eyes at him.  It only drew attention to her snout for a nose.</p>
<p>“Pansy,” Draco said slowly, “listen carefully.  This,” he paused to gesture back-and-forth between them, “is <i>never</i> going to happen.”</p>
<p>“Well, really, Draco!  There’s no need to be rude just because you’ve a stick up your arse today!” Pansy said in a huff, then with a flourish, pranced out of the train compartment amidst the various laughter of the assorted Slytherins present.</p>
<p>Draco hadn’t liked another girl touching him.  Not after the way Lily had.  He didn’t want anyone else trespassing on his memories of what it had been like for her to touch and kiss him.  Plus, he knew Pansy was only interested because she had the mistaken impression that he was being favored by the Dark Lord, and wanted some of his notoriety to rub off on her.  Blood-thirsty little social climber that she was. </p>
<p>The sliding door of their compartment was thrown wide an hour later.  “Ah, I see I’ve found members of my old house!” a portly old man announced, his protruding belly blocking the entire opening.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Vincent Crabbe grunted, staring at the bald newcomer in befuddlement. </p>
<p>“Professor Slughorn, my boy,” he said, summarily dismissing him as he scanned the other faces.  “I used to be Head of Slytherin House.  Probably taught most of your parents.  Now, let’s see.  Ah, yes, yes.  Mr. Zabini, would you care to join me for lunch?  I’m gathering a few noteworthy individuals to get to know a bit better, and I thought to extend the invitation to you personally seeing as we snakes need to stick together.”</p>
<p>“Sir,” Draco began, recognizing the man now that he knew his name.  Draco’s father had mentioned him a time or two, and he looked just as he’d been described.  He was the type of professor that they’d been needing at Hogwarts for a while now.</p>
<p>“You would be... Mr. Malfoy, if I’m not mistaken?  Take after your father.  Well, be sure to grab something off the trolly,” Professor Slughorn suggested, turning and walking away from their group without another word.</p>
<p>Draco felt his face flushing as the others cast pitying looks at him, not even bothering to try and hide them.  Pity was not an emotion he was used to having directed his way.  He was far more familiar, not to mention comfortable, with envy.</p>
<p>Right at that moment, Potter and Longbottom walked past the still open door of their compartment, discussing what Slughorn could want with them.</p>
<p>It was ridiculous.  Utterly ridiculous that he should feel so hurt to be excluded.  It wasn’t as though he wanted to be included in Slughorn’s little band of misfits.  Not when types like Longbottom were in it.  But it had still cut him to the quick when Slughorn, a former Slytherin, had basically told him he wasn’t welcome to attend the lunch.</p>
<p>Draco was trying to pretend that it hadn’t happened.  After everything else that had occurred over the summer, he should be numb to such insignificant insults.  But it still hurt regardless.</p>
<p>It was a struggle, but Draco managed to keep up a carefree facade the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts.  He put on a show, displaying every bit of his usual bravado.  And not one person commented or even seemed to notice that it wasn’t genuine.</p>
<p>How could these people claim to be his friends when they didn’t even notice that he was dying inside, drowning on dry land?  </p>
<p>Would Lily have been able to see through his mask?  Would she have viewed it as the flimsy, transparent veil that it was?  Draco wished she was there, getting all fired up over the way he was acting as she had the other night.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with this thing?” Blaise demanded, struggling with the sliding door when he returned, a short distance away from their destination.</p>
<p>Draco watched, slightly amused, almost despite himself, as he saw Potter’s legs, dangling from his invisibility cloak as the Gryffindor clamored up onto the luggage rack.</p>
<p>Spying, was he?  Seemed pretty par for the course.  Usual tricks and all that.</p>
<p> “So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?” Draco asked, attempting not to let his resentment show or inadvertently reveal that they had a guest.</p>
<p>“Just trying to make up to well-connected people.  Not that he managed to find many.”</p>
<p>“Who else had he invited?” Draco demanded, frowning.  Had his father truly fallen so out of favor with his imprisonment?  Draco hadn’t thought it was quite so bad.</p>
<p>“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” Zabini replied.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry,” Malfoy said absently, barely listening as Zabini continued rattling off names.  His anger at not being included made him want to lash out.  He wondered if he could bait Potter into reacting.  </p>
<p>“Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ‘the Chosen One,’ but that Weasley girl!  What’s so special about her?” he sneered, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth.  Thinking about Weaslette reminded him of Lily.  And she would be so disappointed in how he was behaving and the dishonest vitriol spewing from his mouth.</p>
<p>“A lot of boys like her.  Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!” Pansy announced, watching Draco for his reaction to the taunt.  Draco cast a withering look her way, reminding her that her chances with him were still nonexistent.</p>
<p>“Not half as much as Draco did last year,” Blaise said, ratting him out.  “But at least you had the good sense never to actually fancy her.”</p>
<p>“She is the best-looking girl at Hogwarts though,” Greg Goyle agreed, looking to him for confirmation, asking “right, Draco?”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen better,” Draco said vaguely, recalling her attractive deeper red hair and hazel eyes full of challenge.  The brazen honesty and heat of Lily’s embrace.</p>
<p>The rest of the conversation buzzed about his head, an annoying fly, but he was lost in remembering the secret letters he had tucked away in his trunk and the taste of honey and cinnamon that had been Lily Potter’s perfect mouth.</p>
<p>He spoke when expected, and must have managed to say all the right things, because no one reacted or questioned him.  Again, he was left to wonder if Lily would have noticed his strange behavior.</p>
<p>When Potter grunted in pain as the group readied themselves to exit, Draco glared at the empty spot where his old enemy perched, eavesdropping on him.  Deciding it wouldn’t go well for Potter if the others figured out he was there, Draco decided to pretend he’d not heard anything.</p>
<p>“You lot go on,” Draco said, waving Crabbe and Goyle on.  “I just want to check something.”</p>
<p>Draco closed the door and drew the blinds, wondering the best way to go about things.  Did Potter plan to attack him?  Was he providing the perfect opportunity?</p>
<p>Paranoia had Draco spinning and aiming his wand, crying, “<i>Petrificus Totalus!</i>” before he’d really thought it through.</p>
<p>Potter fell from the luggage rack with a loud, and likely painful, crash.  </p>
<p>Draco stared down at him in shock, not actually having expected his trick to work.  Potter had bested the Dark Lord.  He’d not thought he’d allow himself to be caught so unaware.  </p>
<p>The petrified, dark-haired wizard glared balefully up at him.  Hatred and mistrust etched into the frozen lines of his face.  Sharpened blades of emerald shot from his eyes, shredding Draco with the intensity of the piercing stare.</p>
<p>“I should leave you here,” Draco said wearily, slumping onto the seat and returning Potter’s stare.</p>
<p>For nearly two minutes, Draco watched him, debating the ramifications of doing precisely that.  A large part of him wanted to.  It was an undeniable fact.  But when he looked at Potter, all he could see were disappointed hazel eyes.  Hurting Potter would inevitably hurt Lily.  And he didn’t want to be responsible for causing her a moment of pain.  She was too untouched, too pristine for that.</p>
<p>“But I won’t,” Draco concluded, seeing surprise flicker through Harry’s eyes.  “<i>Finite</i>,” Draco whispered, striding towards the door.</p>
<p>“Why, Malfoy?” Potter demanded, forcing Draco’s hand to freeze on the door.  Draco looked back, studying Potter.  His wand was gripped tightly in his fist, but it wasn’t aimed Draco’s way, probably for the first time ever.</p>
<p>“Because…” he sighed, not knowing how to form the words.  They were reluctant to form.  “Because if something happens to you, she might not ever exist.”</p>
<p>“Was that a threat?” Potter demanded, lifting his wand a fraction, though still not pointing it fully at him.</p>
<p>“No, Potter.  It was the opposite of a threat,” Draco said honestly.</p>
<p>“But… But you don’t even know her!”</p>
<p>“If you say so,” Draco intoned vaguely.</p>
<p>“Malfoy!” Potter cried.</p>
<p>“What?” he hissed, impatient to go.  The whole situation was too surreal for him to handle.  He couldn’t properly process it.</p>
<p>“What are you playing at?”</p>
<p>“We’re too old for games, Potter.  I would have thought Black’s death last spring taught you that,” Draco said, giving a sharp nod before exiting the compartment and leaving Potter staring flabbergasted at his retreating back.</p>
<p>Draco had barely taken two steps when he ran face-first into a mousy-haired witch.  She looked very like his mother, and Draco recognized her instantly.  Nymphadora Tonks.</p>
<p>“Potter’s in there.  He’s fine,” Draco said awkwardly.  Recalling the conversation he’d had with his mother the night before.</p>
<p>“Draco Malfoy,” the witch said carefully, studying him closely.  He felt a bit like a bug on display.</p>
<p>“We’re family…” Draco said cautiously, wondering if he should ask her for help.  She had all the right connections.  She was right there --</p>
<p>“Are we?” she asked, expression closed, and a dubious thread woven around the question.</p>
<p>“I hope so,” he muttered.  Then, losing his nerve, he filed briskly past her.  </p>
<p>It wasn’t as though she’d have believed him anyways.  And the Dark Lord was still at his house -- with his mother.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 8: Two Necklaces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>PS I’m not JK Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 8: Two Necklaces</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tonks told me about the incident on the train.  Well, she told Gran, but I may have overheard.  She and Remus are teaching me this year.  You can trust her.  That’s what you wanted to do, isn’t it?  You were going to ask her for help?  Please be careful.  And remember, you’re not alone.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Lily</i>
</p><p>Draco swallowed as he read the letter waiting for him after his first day of classes.  He’d wanted to write to her that first night, but as so often happened, he couldn’t find the right words when he sat down to draft a letter.</p><p>It was difficult opening himself up to her.  Went against his very nature most of the time.  Slytherins didn’t have feelings.  And Malfoys needed no one.  They weren’t reliant on others.  Yet somehow, Lily had wiggled her way in.  They’d only been around each other a couple times, and she was all he thought of!  How had she done it so easily?  </p><p>And why in the name of Merlin’s saggy balls did she always make him end up sounding like a love-sick twelve-year-old girl?</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I can’t ask for help while he is residing with my mother.  It would be too big of a risk.  If she is as trustworthy as you say, then perhaps another opportunity will present itself.  What will she be teaching you this year?  I’ll admit, I’ve never met her.  What’s she like?  And are you sure it’s safe to have a werewolf teaching you?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I have so much I want to tell you about.  It’s only been one day, two including travel, and so much has already happened.  Our new professor, Slughorn, deliberately snubbed me because of my father.  I, well, I don’t quite know how to feel about that.  It’s like I’ve become a pariah overnight.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Even worse, today in Potions, both Granger and Potter beat me!  It’s my best subject, much like you.  Granger has always been the only one that could beat me.  I wanted so badly to impress Slughorn.  To prove he’d written me off too quickly.  But getting third isn’t all the impressive.</i>
</p><p>Draco paused, debating on whether or not to tell her about what he had smelled coming off the Amortentia Potion, but decided against it.  It was too sentimental.  He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea anyways.  ‘Course, he didn’t really know what it meant himself either.  </p><p>He studied the page, rereading what he’d written so far.  If only he could tell her about the threats and lessons he’d been made to sit through.  Or the plan he’d come up with to try and get the job done quickly.  He’d love her input.  Even though he knew she’d just try to talk him out of doing anything at all.  It wasn’t the most clever idea he’d ever had, but it was the easiest.  </p><p>And this way he’d not have to be there to see it happen.  He couldn’t imagine actually watching the Headmaster die.  He might not care for the old crackpot, but he didn’t really want to be responsible for killing him either.  </p><p>No, best he not tell her about it.  He could already hear her voice in his head.  He knew what she’d say.  Cowardly.  His plan was cowardly.</p><p>So instead, he finished his letter with:</p><p>
  <i>At least I have Quidditch this Saturday morning.  Urquhart was the first to schedule the pitch for tryouts this year, so we’ll have a leg up on the other Houses.  I think we have the best shot of winning since I’ve been here.  Urquhart has a lot of ideas, but he says in the end it’ll all come down to me.  No pressure, right?  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Will you be all alone, or will you have people around that you can fly with?  It’d be a shame to let your talent go to waste.  Not that I’ve seen your skills, but I’ve a feeling you weren’t exaggerating.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Draco</i>
</p><p>
  <i>PS New owl?</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>The weeks passed quickly.  After the first reply, which contained little more than a scathing setdown on the inaccuracies and unfairness of werewolf prejudices -- a topic she’d been doggedly educating him on since -- they’d settled into a routine of writing every other day to each other.  One night he’d get her letter, then the next, he’d write to her. </p><p>It was the best part of his day, and the one thing he looked forward to.  It was miserable having the teachers all looking down on him.  Now that his father was no longer on the school board, they felt they had no reason to be kind to him.  He’d thought his marks over the years had earned him their approval, but he was slowly discovering that they secretly, or not so secretly now, loathed him.</p><p>What could he have possibly done during his five plus year tenure to merit such blatant dislike?  They all loved Potter well enough, and Potter caused far more problems than he ever had!</p><p>Well, Snape didn’t despise him.  But after what his mother had told him, Draco had gone out of his way to avoid the man.  What if he was using Draco to gain favor with the Dark Lord?  He’d not found a way to bring up Snape casually in a letter, and he didn’t want to risk revealing too much in case the letter fell into the wrong hands.</p><p>Plus, there had been the issue with the Ministry searching his home again.  His Aunt Bella had written to tell him about it before the Prophet reported it in the paper.  She’d alluded to the Dark Lord taking his anger over Draco’s lack of progress out on Narcissa in retaliation for having to temporarily flee his comfy set up, lest the officials discover him.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>My teachers hate me.  It’s all Father’s fault.  He lost all of his clout when he was caught, and now they are making me pay for it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Draco</i>
</p><p>He sighed.  There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but he had detention from McGonagall because he’d not been paying close enough attention in Transfiguration, or turned in his dull, pointless assignments.  But a Hogsmeade trip had just been announced, and he’d been preoccupied thinking through his plan.  Not to mention, he’d had yet another letter from his Aunt Bella the week before telling him to get a move on.  He was tired of waiting, and Draco knew the price of failure.</p><p>Lily’s response to his letter was the last thing he’d expected.  It certainly took his mind off his worries.  Part of him was furious at her gall.  Who was she to criticize him?  Part was amused at her succinct, and he had to admit, brutally honest assessment.  She definitely saw him clearly, metaphorical warts and all.  But mostly, he admired her gumption.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Did you ever consider that your professors might hate you because you’re a right git most of the time?  And before you write back, demanding to know what I mean, let me explain here:</i>
</p><p>
  <i>1. You bully students -- even tiny first years -- when you’re supposed to be a Prefect!<br/>2. You deliberately try to get others in trouble, taking delight in the fact when you succeed -- it's disgusting and nasty, and people don’t much care for it, myself included<br/>3. You willingly aligned yourself with Umbridge -- what were you thinking?<br/>4. You are always starting something with Harry -- best you resign yourself to the fact he will forever be their favorite pupil<br/>5. You use your name to lord all you have over other students -- you’re not better than anyone else so stop acting like you are!<br/>6. You take public joy in the misery of others -- it’s not attractive</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hopefully, you’re man enough to acknowledge your flaws.  These are traits that have defined you for years, and I spent all summer hearing countless examples of.  Only you can change how people see you.  It’ll take time, and people probably won’t notice as soon as you’d like for them to when you do decide to be a better wizard.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I believe that one day you’ll be someone worthy of love and respect.  But it’s up to you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Lily</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>Draco headed straight for the Three Broomsticks, just as he’d been instructed to do in his Aunt’s letter that morning.  He’d expected to be meeting someone else, not her.  Shock, that she’d be so brazen as to visit the pub while the town was crawling with Aurors had silenced his protests.  Of course, perhaps he’d get lucky and she’d be spotted.  If she were captured and hauled off, he’d get a temporary reprieve.</p><p>Hope.  That was what he was doing.  But hope was a dangerous emotion.  And one he definitely hadn’t earned.</p><p>Draco touched his pocket, hesitating before pulling out the last letter he’d received from Lily.  She believed he could do better.  He wanted to prove her right.  So much.</p><p>Today had been his plan.  Thanks to the Ministry raids on his home, he’d not been able to pick up the dark object in advance or keep it at Malfoy Manor.  Instead, he’d thought up the clever little scheme of having someone deliver the necklace to him here.  Not even directly to him.  He was having it delivered to Madam Rosmerta, then having her pass it off to a student to take to the Headmaster.  </p><p>He’d wanted as much distance from the whole affair as possible.  All he had to do was cast the Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta then have her do the rest.  Piece of cake.  The Dark Lord had forced him to practice the Unforgivable Curse multiple times over the summer.  He was an old hand at it now. </p><p>It had been the only time he’d ever regretted growing up in a wizarding household.  If he’d been raised by Muggles, as Potter had been, there’d be a Trace on him.  One that would prevent his doing magic outside of Hogwarts.  He didn’t have one.  So there’d been no excuse not to do the Dark Lord’s bidding.  Even when it had involved cursing Muggles.</p><p>Draco read the last line of her letter again, <i>I believe that one day you’ll be someone worthy of love and respect.  But it’s up to you.</i></p><p>Swallowing, he stood and left the crowded pub, deciding there was no time like the present to get started.  He didn’t want to carry out his plan anyways.  He wanted to be that man.  The one she believed he could be.  For her, he’d --</p><p>“Going somewhere, Draco?” Bellatrix purred from the side of the pub.</p><p>“I-I was looking for you,” he stuttered, taking in her hooded eyes, strong jaw, and long, dark hair.</p><p>“Were you?  Out here?  When I specifically told you to wait inside,” she chastised, not falling for his lie.</p><p>“I was worried you’d be caught,” he tried, attempting to placate her.  He could already tell she was in a mood, one that didn’t bode well for him or anyone in the vicinity.  She truly was insane.</p><p>“So sweet of you to look out for my welfare,” she cooed, adopting a disturbing baby voice.  It made him recoil at the sound, which only served to make her glare daggers at him.  “Though you needn’t.  Our Master has taught me much.  No Auror has a chance of defeating me.”</p><p>“We are blessed,” Draco agreed, trying to sound appropriately differential. </p><p>“We are.  Remember that next time you get cold feet,” Bella scolded, sneering at him with such disdain he thought her lips might permanently curl.</p><p>“I didn’t!  I --”</p><p>“If I’d not stopped you, you would have received my dear sister’s hand in your morning post tomorrow,” Bella announced disdainfully.  Draco blanched at hearing the threat.  He had no doubt she was serious too.  “It’s enough to put anyone off their meal.  And I’d hate to see my sister suffer because she had the misfortune to raise a sniveling coward.  You would not let us down, now, would you, Draco?”</p><p>“No,” Draco whispered, trying to mask his fear.  She’d likely correctly interpret it as weakness on his part and punish him for it.</p><p>“Excellent,” Bella giggled, clapping her hands excitedly like a warped version of a first year.  A second later, she tossed him a package wrapped in brown paper.  His heart nearly stopped when he caught it.  He was not originally meant to handle the package at all.  Draco supposed this was some sort of punishment for trying to back out.  Wonderful.  “Then you’re up.”</p><p>Slowly, Draco trudged back inside the busy pub, moving into the back near the lavatories.  </p><p>Luck appeared to be on his side.  Madam Rosmerta appeared, alone, less than a minute later.  </p><p>“What are you doing back here?  Students aren’t --”</p><p>“<i>Imperio</i>,” Draco breathed.</p><p>"<i>Imperio the next student that uses the loo to take this to the school.  It is for the Headmaster -- no one else can touch it,"</i> he willed, silently instructing her to obey his command and accept the nondescript package containing the cursed necklace.</p><p>Everything went off without a hitch.  Draco watched with morbid fascination as Rosmerta cursed a girl and gave her the package.  Something about the girl looked familiar, and Draco thought he might recognize her from Quidditch, but he couldn’t be sure.  He’d never paid much attention to the people that weren’t in his social circle or weren’t among those he actively hated.</p><p>Maybe that was part of his problem.</p><p>When Ginny Weasley appeared to use the loo, Draco felt ill.  He had the sudden urge to take it all back and undo the last few minutes.</p><p>“Malfoy, what are you doing back here?” she demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.</p><p>“Nothing,” he denied, guilt straining his voice.  He looked towards the front door, and could just make out the girl leaving with the dangerous package.</p><p>“Harry told me about what happened on the train,” Weaslette announced, still studying him.  He didn’t know what she was hoping to find, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t there. </p><p>“So?  Look, Weaslette, I’m very busy just now.  Was there something you needed or wanted to say to me?” Draco tried, adopting his usual demeanor and waving her off.  She looked distinctly unimpressed.</p><p>“Yeah, you look busy,” she scoffed, pursing her lips and shaking her head.  Her demeanor was so reminiscent of the times he’d engaged with Lily, that he found himself swallowing thickly.  “Why are you willing to protect her?  What interest is she to you?” Weaslette inquired, crossing her arms and blocking his path when he made to go around her.</p><p>“You wouldn’t understand, and I can’t talk about this here,” he hissed, glancing around.  What if his aunt had come inside to make sure he followed through?  She could be listening to every word they spoke.  If Bella discovered Lily...</p><p>Draco straightened, scanning the nearest faces more closely.  Nothing.  She wasn’t there.</p><p>“Malfoy?  What is it?” Weaslette asked, genuine concern screwing up her face.</p><p>In a moment of weakness, he caved, instructing, “Go get Dumbledore.  Hurry.”</p><p>As soon as the words left his lips, Draco paled.  He brushed past the shocked Weasley and headed for the door.</p><p>“Malfoy!” she called, scrambling to grab his retreating arm.</p><p>He spun to face her when she caught hold of him, giving her a piercing look.  Weaslette released him at once, racing past him  for the front door.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione all ran out after her, having noticed her hasty departure.</p><p>Draco hung back, trying to get himself back under control so it wouldn’t be obvious that he’d once again tried to back out.  When he determined that he had, he swaggered out, nodding confidently at Bellatrix where he saw she was still hidden in the bushes on the side of the Three Broomsticks.  She’d probably stuck around because she wanted to be the one to cast the Mark in the sky and relay the news to the Dark Lord if her nephew was successful.</p><p>The sound of screaming wrapped around him before he came upon the scene.</p><p>He was unaccountably horrified by the sight of the oaf Hagrid carrying the shrieking girl’s form.  What had gone wrong?</p><p>Then McGonagall was racing towards the knot of students, which of course included Harry <i>bloody</i> Potter.  Draco slunk away, proceeding to hide in his dorm room for the rest of the afternoon.</p><p>That was where Nott found him shortly before dinner.</p><p>“Professor Snape sent me to fetch you.  He wants to see you in his office immediately,” Nott informed him, watching Draco with a worried frown.</p><p>Draco reluctantly trudged the whole way to his Head of House’s office.  When he arrived, he was startled to find Professor McGonagall there as well.</p><p>“Well, Mr. Malfoy, do you know why we’ve asked you here?” McGonagall asked brusquely, her lips forming a thin line as she pressed them tightly together.</p><p>“No, Professor,” Draco said dutifully, keeping his face carefully neutral.  Professor Snape raised a mocking brow at him, but otherwise remained silent.</p><p>“The incident involving Miss Bell.  Mr. Potter suggested you might be able to shed a bit more light on the subject,” McGonagall prompted, agitation making her tone more sharp than usual, which was saying something.  She’d been fed up with him for most of the year already.</p><p>“Potter has no proof that Draco was involved with any of it,” Professor Snape interjected smoothly, lips curling almost imperceptibly.</p><p>“Miss Weasley admitted you warned her,” McGonagall stated crisply, making Draco’s heart jump in his chest as Professor Snape’s head whipped around to pin him in place with a fierce scowl.  Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat as he met his Head of House’s black glare head on, lies sifting through his mind, each discarded as quickly as it came to him. </p><p>“I saw the girl acting funny,” Draco said, adopting a concerned expression, hopefully it was a passable imitation of one.  “B-but I didn’t think you’d believe me if I tried to tell you myself.”</p><p>McGonagall looked immediately guilty.  This was precisely why good people were so easy to manipulate.  They always wished to believe the best of others, and tried to take the fault onto their own shoulders when it turned out they were wrong.</p><p>“If you see anything in the future, please do not hesitate to inform me immediately.  Your warning may have saved Miss Bell’s life today,” McGonagall stated, with what almost sounded like pride.  Could trying to help someone honestly make her proud of him?</p><p>“May I be dismissed?” Draco asked, distinctly uncomfortable with the new turn of events.</p><p>“No.  I would like a word still,” Professor Snape said ominously, adding in his usual drawl, “<i>privately.</i>”</p><p>“Good day, Severus,” McGonagall said, nodding at the Slytherin before taking her leave.</p><p>“What were you thinking saying something to Weasley?” Professor Snape demanded, face resembling a thundercloud.</p><p>“That I should cover myself should the plan fail.  That way I’d still be around to try again,” Draco said immediately, it was the best he’d come up with as far as excuses went.</p><p>“You thought the plan would fail?” Professor Snape questioned, watching him intently.</p><p>“I hadn’t anticipated Filch would be so thorough when I first came up with it over the summer,” Draco admitted.  That part, at least, was true.</p><p>“Draco, I am here to help you.  We both have much at stake.  Perhaps next time you will run your plan past me, and any similar oversights can be addressed beforehand,” Professor Snape said intently.</p><p>“If that’s all,” Draco said, neither agreeing or disagreeing as he made for the exit.  Professor Snape didn’t try to stop him again.</p><p>~</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Did you do it?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>The short missive was a dagger to the heart.  She was disappointed in him, he could tell.  The note was a plea to tell her it hadn’t been him, when they both knew she was already aware of the role he’d played.</p><p>Worst, it had taken over a week for her to even write that much.  This was the first he’d heard from her since the Hogsmeade visit, and he’d been too ashamed to write her first.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Do they suspect it was me?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Draco</i>
</p><p>He was afraid of what she’d say.  He couldn’t come right out and admit what he’d done.  He was too ashamed.  Anxiety gripped him on top of that.  The plan had failed, and now he’d have to come up with a new one.</p><p>~</p><p>It was another week before Lily’s reply came.  Halloween had come and gone, the celebrations subdued this year.  Katie Bell -- that was her name, he learned -- her continued absence from the Gryffindor table was a kick in the teeth.  A pointed reminder of the collateral damage that piled up in times such as these.</p><p>He’d been right in thinking she was a Quidditch player, and suddenly, Draco found he no longer had the will to play.  It hardly seemed fair after he’d taken away Katie Bell’s chance to play.</p><p>Even Lily’s birthday had lacked the grandeur he’d had planned.  He’d sent her a goblin-made necklace layered with protection charms.  The thin silver chain had been in his family for centuries.  His mother had assumed he was gifting Pansy with it when he’d written for her to send it to him, and he’d opted against correcting her mistaken assumption.  There’d been no word on if Lily had liked it, only her brief reply.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Only Harry believes so.  Gin thinks you knew and disagreed, and that was why you warned her.  I can’t believe… Why?  Why did you do it, Draco?  You could have killed that girl.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>The reprimanding letter provoked him.  Did she think he wanted this?  That he’d done it for a laugh?  He’d give anything to be free of the chains binding him.  To turn his back on the whole lot of it.  Self-preservation had always been one of his top priorities, and this wasn’t really how he’d like to go about ensuring his safety. </p><p>
  <i>Lily</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Did you know he stayed with us over the summer?  It was terrifying.  He forced me to watch as he demonstrated the fate that would befall my mother if I failed to do as he instructed.  What choice do I have?  Tell me that you would not do whatever it took to protect Ginny Weasley.  Tell me that, and I’ll apologize.  If you can’t, then please just let us drop it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Still Yours,<br/>Draco</i>
</p><p>Silently, he begged her not to turn away from him.  Begged her to understand.  To give him another chance.  He didn’t have a clue what he was doing here anymore.  It was all a giant mess.  All he knew was that he needed her.</p><p>Waiting for her reply was torture.  She made him wait four whole days.  And it wasn’t until after he read it that he was able to breathe again.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>You’re not alone.  I haven’t turned my back on you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Still Yours As Well,<br/>Lily</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 9: Incentives… How Wonderful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p>
<p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p>
<p>PS I’m not J. K. Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Ch 9: Incentives… How Wonderful</p>
<p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Remus is making me study for my O.W.L.s all of Christmas break.  Can you believe it?  I won’t even have Hermione to help me.  Gin said she’s not coming to the Burrow for Christmas this year for some reason or another.  At least I’ll be able to sit my exams.  Dumbledore arranged everything for me.  Apparently, I’m just another student who was pulled from Hogwarts when all the trouble started.  He stopped by the other day to explain.  He made it sound like there were a number of parents that had opted for homeschooling this year.  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Will you be heading home for Christmas?  You haven’t said…</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Yours, <br/>Lily<i></i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco smiled absently, grateful her dream of becoming a Healer wasn’t entirely out of reach.  He imagined she’d been fretting over it until Dumbledore stepped in.  Of course she still had to go about living her life, and figuring out a way to do it, so naturally that would involve sitting her exams.  She’d informed him months ago that her being in the past was a permanent thing.  A fact that greatly relieved him.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Her casual, and easy mention of the Headmaster startled him though.  Part of him couldn’t believe she wasn’t angry with the old man for meddling about in her mind.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He’d finally brought himself around to asking her if he was going to try again, after his botched attempt with the necklace.  Lily had admitted that she had no idea because Dumbledore had erased her memory.  Shocked might have been an understatement for how he’d felt upon learning that.  Though it made sense given the fact she’d had to ask after his role with the necklace.  And he had to admit that he didn’t mind knowing this made things much safer for her.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Lily,</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Granger is probably trying to avoid Weasley, seeing as he always has his tongue shoved down Lavender Brown’s throat these days.  Surprised no one thought to tell you about it yet.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Students have been getting pulled left and right.  I’d say about fifteen so far, maybe more.  It’s strange.  Unsettling even.  I may hate this place, but to see it coming apart like this...</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>My presence was requested at the Manor, so yes, I’ll be heading home.  Let the celebrations begin…</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Yours,<br/>Draco</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>~</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Her reply came the day before he was set to return on the Hogwarts Express.  He’d just finished classes, and was dreading returning.  His home would be crawling with Death Eaters, and Draco was positive he’d have to endure threats and unnecessary reminders of what failure would entail.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Draco,</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Lavender?  When did that happen?  I can’t picture my uncle with anyone besides Hermione.  Not that I can really picture them much at all, but that’s hardly the point!</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>If things get too bad, you are always welcome at the Burrow.  I promise.  I’ve mentioned a few things to Remus -- please don’t be mad -- Tonks too.  They’re very interested in helping you.  All you have to do is ask.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Please stay safe.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Yours,<br/>Lily</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She made the idea of asking for help sound so easy.  As though it weren’t the scariest, most daunting prospect he’d ever faced.  Would they really believe him if he did ask for help?  Draco hadn’t given them much reason to trust that he was anything aside from a loyal follower.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco walked all the way to the stone gargoyles outside the Headmaster’s office, staring at them as he debated asking for help.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>And if they did believe him, could they really protect both him and his mother?  Karkaroff hadn’t escaped the Dark Lord’s wrath and vengeance for his desertion.  If the Drumstrang Headmaster couldn’t, what hope did Draco and his mother have?</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>None.  It was that simple.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>With that, he turned to head back to the dungeons, and found himself coming face-to-face with Filch.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What are you doing boy?” the caretaker demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Nothing!” Draco huffed defensively, annoyed that everyone always automatically assumed he was up to something.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Likely story,” Filch rasped, catching Draco roughly by the ear.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Ow!  Hey, let go of me,” he insisted, trying to bat the old man off of him.  Bugger!  The man’s grip was shockingly strong.  “That hurts -- ow!”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Let’s just see what Professor Snape makes of this,” Filch threatened, dragging him down the hall.  Draco was not in the mood to face his head of house right then -- not when he didn’t know if he could trust the man or not.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Music and the sound of laughter and talking could be heard as they approached.  It sounded like a party.  What -- oh, right.  The Slug Club.  The little group he’d been deliberately excluded from.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Inspiration struck, and Draco quickly said, “I just wanted to go to the party, but I don’t have an invitation, so I was heading back to my dorm.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Right.  Bet you were trying to crash,” Filch muttered, dragging Draco before his Head of House.  “You students are always trying to sneak around where you’re not wanted or supposed to be.  Caught him lurking, Sir,” Filch announced to Snape.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco hardly heard a word Snape said as he dragged Draco away from the party and interrogated him, offering help and questioning what he was planning.  All of Draco’s energy was devoted to blocking the man from delving into his mind and discovering his relationship with Lily Potter.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>For months, Draco had been teaching himself Occlumency.  Determined that he would be able to protect Lily’s existence from the Dark Lord.  Everyone said Snape was the second most accomplished Legilimens alive.  Even better than Dumbledore.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>This was a test -- whether he was ready or not.  But perhaps this was a blessing.  If he succeeded in blocking Snape, he’d be able to shut out the Dark Lord.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>By the time Snape let him go, Draco felt confident in his abilities.  At least Lily would be safe.  If nothing else.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>~</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco had barely stepped foot inside the place that should have felt like a sanctuary and had, before it’d been invaded, when he was called before the Dark Lord.  With no small amount of trepidation, Draco made his way into the drawing room, feeling like a prisoner within his own home.  He hated it.  More than words could express.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Why have there been no further attempts?” the Dark Lord demanded without preamble.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco swallowed, truthfully answering, “I can’t get close to him.  He’s never around anymore.”  There were long stretches of days when the Headmaster wasn’t seen at all.  More and more meals passed without the old man gracing the Head table.  Rumors abounded that he wasn’t even at the castle during those times.  Instead of protecting the remaining students, he was off galavanting around Britain.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Perhaps you are lacking proper motivation.  An incentive may be required, yes?” the Dark Lord said conversationally.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“No.  That’s not --” Draco began, tempted to fall to his knees and beg, for all the good he knew it would do him.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Greyback?  Bring her in,” the Dark Lord said lightly, almost amused by Draco’s desperate pleas.  Was he truly so without pity or compassion?  Was this whom his father idolized and wished to emulate?</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Greyback’s hands roved over his mother’s resisting frame, and Draco felt vomit work its way up his throat at the sight of her being manhandled in such an undignified manner.  It was revolting.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco made to go to her, intending to intervene, to put a stop to the proceedings, but he was frozen where he stood, unable to move a muscle.  Helpless.  Impotent.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>When the filthy werewolf licked his mother’s staining throat, Draco begged, “Stop!  Stop, please.”  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He knew it was useless, but he needed to try anyway.  Greyback just chuckled, bending to bite her shoulder as his claws raked over her side, drawing blood for both places.  His mother’s agonized screams filled the room, mingling with his own protests.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The sight of Greyback lifting his hand to his mouth, his sickly wet tongue darting out to lick the blood from his twisted talons was too much for Draco.  “I know what to do!” he shouted, an idea coming to him in his desperation.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh?” the Dark Lord prompted, waving a hand to indicate Greyback should halt momentarily.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I can’t get anything in -- it’s all checked, but the professors can,” Draco said hurriedly, rattling off his explanation, and hoping the Dark Lord would find it satisfactory.  “And liquids in bottles aren’t checked.  I heard it mentioned recently.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I will not risk Severus losing his position,” the Dark Lord said warningly, peering at Draco with a slightly disappointed expression, as though he’d expected better from him and was only just realizing his time had been wasted.  “I need him should you fail.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Not him.  Slughorn,” Draco said in a rush, speaking before the Dark Lord could give Greyback permission to harm his mother further.  “Poisoned mead for him to give to Dumbledore for Christmas,” Draco gasped, scanning the Dark Lord’s face for any hint of approval.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Creative.  And should Slughorn be accused… Well, it was his mistake to turn his back on us,” the Dark Lord finished, nodding slowly.  It was the closest thing to praise he’d ever received from the serpentine man.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yes,” Draco agreed, feeling a twinge of guilt for making Slughorn an unwitting accomplice -- even if he did detest the man.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I knew you just needed a little prodding.  See that it’s done by the end of the day.  Slughorn is regularly visiting Hogsmeade.  That should make it easy for you,” the Dark Lord said casually, proving that he was always aware of his enemies’ movements.  A warning in and of itself not to dare cross him.  “Greyback, go with him.  See that he does it.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The plan was enacted with little fanfare.  One of the best bottles of mead was brought up from the Malfoy’s cellar, and Draco added a draft of poison that the Dark Lord provided personally.  After that, Draco returned to the Three Broomsticks and once again cast an Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta, instructing her to handle the details with Slughorn.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It was all rather simple.  Disgustingly so.  Even if it was still a feeble attempt.  And as he watched his mother’s wounds refuse to heal, the bane of having been inflicted by a werewolf, he waited for unfortunate news to come of Dumbledore’s death.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It never came.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Not on Christmas.  Or the day after.  Or the one after that.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The Dark Lord was furious to have been thwarted yet again, and his Aunt Bellatrix began raging against werewolves with a visceral so extreme, that Draco knew it didn’t bode well for any inflicted with the Lycanthrope Curse.  She’d not appreciated her family being tainted, and made sure Draco knew the fault rested squarely on his shoulders.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>~</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Lily,</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Meet me in the orchard tonight.  I need to see you.  Alone.</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>Yours, <br/>Draco</i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She was waiting outside for him already when he arrived at the Burrow, and when he saw she was wearing the necklace he gave her, his heart beat faster.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Without preamble, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him, and burying her face in his neck.  He felt her lips press a soft kiss to his pounding pulse, and for a second, Draco forgot how to breath.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Lily,” he breathed, amazed by how perfectly her petite form fit in his embrace.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Draco,” she replied, amusement dancing in her voice.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>When he kissed her, it was even better than the first time.  Her flowery scent surrounded him, filling him with peace and so many hopeful, happy emotions that he felt ready to float away, lighter and freer than he’d felt in months.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She was so soft and pliant in his arms, her vibrant red hair even longer than it had been before, cascading all the way done to swirl about her hips.  Draco was struck with the thought that she appeared to be a fairy sprite, with her elfin features and flawless, porcelain skin.  Perfection didn’t begin to describe her.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>His words at the start-of-term, ‘I’ve seen better,’ were more true than he’d realized.  There wasn’t another witch at Hogwarts better-looking.  Of course, he may have been biased.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What’s happened?” she asked, touching his face gently as she frowned.  Was he so easy to read?  Or was she just so adept at it already?</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“He hurt my mother.  I had to try again,” he admitted, averting his eyes.  He couldn’t bear to see the censure written on her face in reaction to his words.  Somehow, it felt as though he’d betrayed her.  Maybe he just knew he’d let her down.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Draco…” she breathed, a wealth of emotion surrounding his name, so many layers he was reminded unexpectedly of an onion.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She hugged him suddenly, holding him tightly, and he clung to her, a life raft in the middle of the ocean, no land or salvation in sight.  Only her.  He pulled her closer, determined not to let go.  Draco had no wish to drown.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Your mum?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Greyback hurt her.  He…” he broke off, choking on a sob.  It was lodged painfully in his throat.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Oh, Draco,” she murmured, holding him tighter, and he let her, accepting the comfort she offered.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“It didn’t work.  We’d have heard something by now if it had,” he confessed, filtering the words through her hair, inhaling the scent of amber and jasmine while he could.  The memory would have to be enough to sustain him in the coming months.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Did he figure out what you’d done?” she asked uncertainly, trying to keep her tone light rather than accusatory.  Not that he deserved the consideration.  He appreciated it nonetheless.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Must have,” Draco muttered, wondering how he’d been lucky enough to earn the reprieve.  It seemed too good to be true.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Will your mother be punished again?” Lily asked quietly, a tremor in her voice at the idea of such a thing happening.  The evidence of her fear made his eyes close, a vane attempting to wrest the notion away.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I don’t know.  So far she hasn’t been,” Draco said hesitantly.  He didn’t know why the Dark Lord hadn’t.  The suspense of waiting to see only made things that much worse.  But then, perhaps that was his plan.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What will you do now?” she asked, running her fingers gently through his hair.  The action caused his scalp to tingle pleasantly.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“How much did you tell Lupin?” he asked cautiously, not actually intending to go to the werewolf, especially after what Greyback had done to his mother, but wanting to have all of the information possible regarding his options.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Only that I’d been in contact with you.  He found one of your letters,” she admitted, biting her lip as she tentatively met his sharp gaze.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“And?” he demanded, eager to learn what the wolf had made of their association.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“That he’d do what he could for you, should you ever want his help,” Lily said, reiterating what she’d already told him.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>She looked so hopeful right then, that Draco hated to disappoint her.  But going for help wasn’t an option.  Not for him.  That conclusion had already been cemented in his mind.  The mixture nearly dry to the point it’d crack if he dared deviate from his set path.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Besides, Draco found it hard to believe that the wolf hadn’t had more of a reaction than that.  He’d not cared much for Draco that year he’d taught at Hogwarts.  Probably out of loyalty because of Draco’s very public rivalry with Potter.  And now, here he was carrying on with who amounted to being the werewolf’s grandcub.  In all likelihood, Lily had had to do some fancy talking to bring the older man around -- not to mention convincing him to keep the knowledge to himself.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“What about her…” Draco asked suspiciously, remembering his cousin on the train.  What did she think of everything?</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Tonks?  She’s happy that you’re trying to change,” Lily said lightly, a smile flirting with the edges of her soft, pink lips.  The sight captured Draco’s attention.  Suddenly, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to taste her again.  “How badly was your mum injured?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I don’t want to talk about it.  Can I just kiss you instead?” he asked, completely unabashed at the pleading note dominating his question.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yes,” Lily agreed easily, eagerly meeting him halfway.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>His toes, ears and nose were completely numb by the time they broke apart, and he found he couldn’t care less.  The taste and feel of Lily’s mouth was well worth a bit of discomfort.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You’re not alone, Draco,” she reminded him, knowing he’d need to leave soon or they’d risk discovery.  Already they’d pushed it far more than was wise.  The words struck a chord in him.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Can I trust Snape?  He keeps trying to help me, and -- what?  Why are you smiling like that?” he demanded, watching the way her eyes lit with delight at his question.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“My brother is named after him.  Albus Severus Potter,” Lily said easily, tossing out a crumb of the future with reckless ease.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>It was no wonder the Headmaster took most of her memories.  She’d have inadvertently destroyed herself if he hadn’t.  The girl really needed someone to look after her.  Her life and upbringing had obviously not prepared her for the secrecy and intrigue necessary to navigate this time of war.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Then her words registered.  Albus <i>Severus</i> Potter.  No.  It wasn’t possible...</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“You’re kidding,” he stated flatly, feeling his jaw loosen as he studied her.  He expected her to laugh and say, <i>‘Got you!’ </i>at any moment.  Except, she didn’t.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“No.  I’m rather not, actually.  I’ll let you decide what that means,” she said vaguely, displaying at last a touch of caution on the subject.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I can’t believe…”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Who did you think taught me to excel at potions?” she added with a coy smile.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>He’d have never guessed…</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>That put a whole new spin on things.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>~</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Another failure, Draco?  How disappointing,” the Dark Lord said, sighing loudly.  It was rather overdone and drawn out, but then, that was the point.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco said nothing.  He simply waited, knowing what was about to occur.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“<i>Crucio</i>,” the Dark Lord hissed, aiming his wand directly at Draco.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The pain was sudden, fierce, excruciating.  Every muscle in his body seized and twitched, his knees slammed brutally into the marble floor of his family’s drawing room.  The sound of them cracking loudly was the last thing he heard before the sound of his screams filled the room. </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Every muscle spasmed as his legs gave out, unable to support his upright body for more than a second after the curse began.  He hardly even noticed the pain of colliding with the solid, stone floor.   Everywhere else hurt worse.  It lasted for hours, years even, though in reality it was likely actually only a few seconds.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“How have you fared in devising a means to get my loyal followers into the castle?” the Dark Lord questioned, sneering over his supine form.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Draco panted, trying to make sense of the question, to decipher meaning through the red haze of lingering pain that surrounded him.  Impatience flashed through the narrowed slits of the Dark Lord’s red eyes, and Draco forced his mouth to work.  Sluggishly, his lips shaped the letters, heaving the words, “The vanishing cabinet.  It’s a way in through Borgin and Burke’s.  I’ve been trying to repair it.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>That wasn’t exactly true.  He’d thought of it last summer when the Dark Lord mentioned wanting a way in, but he’d not actually tried to fix the broken cabinet.  Guess now he’d have to find a way to do it.  Quickly too.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“When do you expect your work to be completed?” </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Soon,” Draco gasped, his tongue thick and swollen from having bitten it when his ‘Master’ cursed him.  The tang of salt and copper was thick in his mouth, blood pooling and filling it nastily.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Let’s go ahead and plan to have it ready by May.  Is that soon enough for you?” he asked coldly.  Draco wasn’t foolish enough to believe he really had a choice.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Y-yes, Sir,” he agreed, swallowing a whimper when his arm twitched feebly, electricity seeming to linger in his veins, zapping him painfully from the inside out.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Draco…make it a priority, would you?”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“Yes,” he bit out, failing to mask his outrage at the unfairness of the situation.  </i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The Dark Lord’s eyes widened at his tone, but he merely smiled.  An expression so chilling that Draco instinctively shrank back from it, cowed once more.  “No more failures.  I will not tolerate another, so this will be your final chance.  Incentive, since I know how well you respond… <i>Crucio</i>.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>The pain lasted much, much longer this time.</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>~</i>
  </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>I don’t normally beg for reviews, but I stayed up most of last night to finish this, and the next chapter in each of my other fics since today is my birthday (my present to anyone reading).  If you feel up to taking a moment to let me know what you think, I’d consider it the greatest birthday present ever!  Thanks :)</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 10: Consequences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p>
<p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p>
<p>Draco is near his breaking point in this chapter -- poised on the edge of a cliff, teetering, just before he reaches that point where he realizes he’s actually in control of his fate and in charge of his own destiny.  Not everyone else as he’s thus far believed.  Basically, he’s about to mature and grow up a bit.</p>
<p>PS I’m not J. K. Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Ch 10: Consequences</p>
<p>“Draco, did you hear?” Zabini asked, poking his head into the dorm room.  </p>
<p>Draco had just ducked in to write a letter to Lily while Crabbe and Goyle were completing their remedial homework, needing to retake their O.W.L.s this year, so he’d expected to have at least half an hour to himself.  Hopefully more if luck was on his side.  Apparently, it wasn’t.  But when was it ever these days?  </p>
<p>It was getting harder to find time to write to her.  Not because he didn’t wish to make time, she was all he thought about, and there were a dozen inane things that happened every day that he wished to share.  Possibly make her laugh.  He could almost picture her shining hazel eyes.  Too bad it’d been so dark the last few times he’d seen her.  He’d love a clearer image to be branded in his mind.  </p>
<p>Then there were all of his frustrations and struggles that he wished to write to her about.  Unfortunately, nearly all of his free time was occupied with trying to repair the broken Vanishing Cabinet for the Dark Lord -- the primary source of those frustrations.  Not to mention the lingering memories of the incentives he’d used on Draco were highly motivating.</p>
<p>He’d still had no luck mending the blasted thing.  He’d tried everything he could think of, and still it refused to work properly.  As loath as he was to admit it, it might be beyond his skill level.  Not that he’d ever specifically studied spelling or modifying magical objects.  Seemed a bit of an oversight in the curriculum now.  Even if it was illegal to spell Muggle artifacts, such as cabinets, in the first place.  At least it was if the object was to be used for purposes such as this.</p>
<p>“Hear what, Zabini?” Draco drawled, not very interested in hearing about whatever ridiculous thing some inconsequential person had done.  He’d just bet it had to do with Pansy and her latest scheme to snag his attention once more.  Stupid bint. </p>
<p>“Weasley’s gone and poisoned himself!  The daft buffoon,” Zabini said cheerily, grinning widely from where he’d propped an insouciant shoulder against their dormitory door frame.</p>
<p>“Poison?  How?” Draco demanded, a trickle of unease snaking down his back.</p>
<p>“Don’t know, just thought you’d find it fitting,” Zabini shrugged carelessly.  “Not like he’s any good at Potions, is it?”</p>
<p>“Right,” Draco agreed, faking a smile.</p>
<p>He waited until his friend had gone to share the news with Nott and a couple girls in their year, then slipped out of the common room, making the trek up from the dungeons to the hospital wing.  </p>
<p>It couldn’t have been the same bottle that Draco had laced with poison.  It just wasn’t possible.  That had been months ago, and nothing had ever come of it.  He was simply being paranoid.  Probably, the prat had been messing around trying to brew a potion he wasn’t smart enough to make, and had accidentally poisoned himself like Zabini suggested.  Or something equally foolish.  Weasel wasn’t exactly known for his intelligence.</p>
<p>Because there was no way it was the same poison Draco had used.  That had been in a bottle of mead, and with a professor.  Weasel wouldn’t have access to it.  If it were that same bottle, something would have happened before now.  Surely.</p>
<p>Months had passed.  He repeated the last bit to himself over and over again, but it did nothing to tramp down the unease gripping him, tying his gut into complicated knots.</p>
<p>It was hard to believe that it had already been two months since he’d been lying on the floor of his home being tortured by the Dark Lord.  Months since he’d last seen Lily.  Missing her was an ever present ache in his gut.  A deep pit that throbbed relentlessly like the steady beating of his heart. </p>
<p>Time was rushing by.  And he was running out of it.  He did not wish to dwell on the consequences should he fail.</p>
<p>When Draco reached the hospital wing, he hovered just outside the door, trying to eavesdrop and discover what had happened to Weasel. Snippets floated out to him, but nothing he could make sense of.  Mostly it was frantic, concerned whispers.  Professor Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be inside, but they weren’t saying anything useful.</p>
<p>“Come to gloat?” a voice asked hoarsely from behind him.</p>
<p>Draco spun, coming face-to-face with Granger.  She looked awful.  Swollen, red-rimmed eyes and face blotchy from crying.  Why wasn’t she inside with her little boyfriend?</p>
<p>Oh.  Right.  Weasel was trying to devour the Brown chit at every opportunity all over the school.  He actually felt a bit bad for Granger.  The two had obviously been mooning over each other for years -- disgusting, really -- then the idiot went and got with someone else.  That had to be a blow to her.  </p>
<p>Not that he really cared.  Of course not.  He had other things to worry about.  Far more important, and pressing concerns.</p>
<p>“What happened, Granger?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice level.  He didn’t want her to know how much the answer meant to him, or offend her by thinking he was trying to use this against them as he had so many times in the past.</p>
<p>“Why do you even care?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing him critically.  </p>
<p>Sometimes he hated how intelligent she was.  Always, she saw far more than she should.  Luckily for him, she was rather dismissive of him on a whole or she’d have put together what he was up to long before.</p>
<p>“Please, just tell me...It’s important,” he said carefully, almost beseechingly.  Hopefully she’d spill before thinking about it any more closely.</p>
<p>The answer came from the hospital wing doors behind him.  “He was poisoned,” Weaselette said flatly, drawing his attention back to the door he’d been spying on.  Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked very much like he imagined a distraught Lily would look.</p>
<p>“How?” he asked impatiently.  Was it really so difficult for people to give complete and thorough answers the first time?</p>
<p>“Slughorn gave him a glass of mead.  We aren’t sure how someone poisoned it,” Weaselette explained, studying him as closely as Granger had moments earlier.  He felt like a butterfly on display.  It was unsettling, though not nearly as much as the knowledge that he was responsible for Lily’s uncle’s near death experience.  “But you know, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Draco ignored her, running through the facts in his mind.  The Dark Lord had prepared the poison himself.  It was possible Weasel could still die from ingesting it.  If he’d not had an antidote quick enough.</p>
<p>“Will he live?” Draco demanded quietly, afraid to hear the answer.  </p>
<p>“Yes,” Granger replied firmly.</p>
<p>“What was he doing with Slughorn in the first place?” Draco mused wonderingly.</p>
<p>“He got into some candies spiked with Love Potion meant for Harry,” Weaselette explained, still watching him closely.  “They went to him for help.”</p>
<p>Of all the luck.  There was no way Draco could have predicted this happening.  Or that Slughorn would have kept the bloody bottle, then gone and shared it with students!</p>
<p>Draco turned to go, having all the information he’d sought.  What would Lily say when she found out?  Could she ever forgive him?</p>
<p>“Malfoy!  What are you playing at?” Potter called, having appeared beside the Weaselette.  </p>
<p>He suspected that they’d been secretly seeing each other all year, trying to go unnoticed given the target on his back.  And judging by the proximity with which he stood beside her, and his hand at her hip, they were, in fact, a couple.  Good.  That meant they’d eventually have Lily.  </p>
<p>It was so strange to consider.  Draco had always despised Potter.  But now, knowing he was responsible for Lily, Draco found himself feeling a sort of gratitude towards the spectacled wizard who had always been his rival.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t you like to know, Potter,” Draco muttered absently, his emotions too all over the place to come up with a better retort.  He simply didn’t have it in him to exchange barbs right then. </p>
<p>Draco had barely gone three steps when Potter startled him by grabbing his robes and shoving him roughly into the wall.  Draco knocked against Potter’s balled fists, but the wizard didn’t budge.</p>
<p>“What are you up to?” Potter demanded harshly, shoving him again.</p>
<p>Potter scanned Draco’s face, searching for some hint of a devious plot Draco was involved in.  He almost snorted.  As if Potter had any hope of figuring out the truth.  The git was clueless.  </p>
<p>Uncertainty flashed across Potter’s face, and he seemed to be reassessing him.  Draco knew he looked awful.  His attempts to fix the cabinet were not going well, and often meant he went without sleep as he tried spell after spell to repair it.  He was starting to feel rather desperate, and it was beginning to show.</p>
<p>“And still you think it’s a game,” Draco huffed, pushing Potter as hard as he could.  He stumbled back, and Draco jerked free of his hold.  “Shove off, Potter, and leave me be.”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The blank page stared up at him.  Same as it had for the last hour.  Draco had no idea where to begin.  How to explain.  It was an honest accident.  He’d figured the bottle was chucked out when no news came of Dumbledor’s passing, someone -- not the useless squib Filch, of course, but someone else having detected the poison after all.</p>
<p>The longer he stared, the more he heard the faint echoes of his screams while the Dark Lord tortured him.  At least it had been him and not his mother.</p>
<p>Small mercy.</p>
<p>But who would suffer for this latest failure if the Dark Lord learned of it?</p>
<p>Draco was not a fan of pain and suffering.  Why had his father put him in this position?  Why would he ever follow someone that deployed such tactics on those loyal to him?  It was barbaric and insane.  But he didn’t wish to die or cause his mother’s death either.  There was no escape for either of them.</p>
<p>Those screaming echoes were a reminder of why he’d done the despicable deed in the first place.  But how to explain?  How to make her understand?</p>
<p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I didn’t mean to hurt your uncle.  Please believe me.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Yours, <br/>Draco</i>
</p>
<p>It was all he could come up with.  No excuses or explanations.  Just a simple apology.  Or at least the closest he was capable of producing.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>A week later, he had her response.  The time it took to receive the letter had been agonizing.  It was the longest they’d gone in months between letters.  He’d feared she’d finally written him off.  Finally believed he’d never be that better person she’d once said she believed he could become.</p>
<p>When he read what she had to say, he realized the delay was because she was wrestling with as much guilt as he was.  Possibly more -- considering the identity of the unintended victim. </p>
<p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I didn’t warn anyone of the mead either, so I suppose I am just as much at fault.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Lily</i>
</p>
<p>He’d not thought of it like that.  It relieved some of the pressure from his shoulders, but at her expense.  Which honestly wasn’t any better.  He didn’t want her to suffer.  She was so untouched by the current events.  He wanted to keep her that way.  A radiant beam of sunlight and happiness, untarnished by the cruelty and devastation he was embroiled in.</p>
<p>Lily represented hope.  A better future.  A shining star, and a beckoning dream.</p>
<p>Somehow, he doubted that it would be possible to preserve her if he kept up as he was.  Especially if she remained as tied to him as she currently was.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Just before Easter Hols, Draco ran into Dumbledore in the hallway, quite literally as it were.</p>
<p>“Sir,” Draco said politely, averting his eyes as he did.  He couldn’t bear to look into the face of the man he was trying to kill.</p>
<p>Instead, he focused on the man’s blackened hand.  It looked dead, withered as it was.  What could have happened to cause it?  Why was it not healed yet?  His hand had been injured all year.  Surely, if he was so powerful, he’d have been able to fix it by now.</p>
<p>How could Draco trust Dumbledore would be able to help if he couldn’t even look after himself?</p>
<p>Dumbledore, for his part, seemed unaffected by both their run in and by Draco’s unabashed curiosity.  He shifted slightly when Draco made to move around him, so he waited, assuming so sort of lecture would be forthcoming.  Dumbledore was always looking for excuses to punish the Slytherins.  Or perhaps some strange, inane comment.  That seemed the sort of thing the crackpot was prone to doing.  Barking mad, he was.</p>
<p>“Are you in need of help, Mr. Malfoy?” the Headmaster asked quietly, voice ringing with sincerity.</p>
<p>Draco’s head shot up to gape at the man.  Dumbledore was smiling kindly, silently encouraging Draco to confide in him.  It threw him.  How could he say everything he longed to?  </p>
<p>“What do you think?” he settled for snapping angrily instead, hoping it would either annoy the man into leaving him alone, or get him to confess what he already knew of Draco’s plans.  </p>
<p>Though he honestly had no idea what he’d do in the case of the latter happening.  Merlin, would Dumbledore help him knowing he was trying to kill the man?  There was no way anyone was that understanding.  Simply no way.</p>
<p>“I think… Miss Potter is very like her father,” Dumbledore said slowly, carefully.  Draco opened his mouth, preparing to demand an explanation.  <i>How had he known about them?</i>  But Dumbledore continued, “In that she is an excellent judge of character.”</p>
<p>“I’m not so sure about that,” Draco muttered, hating himself and the position his father had put him in all over again.  Bitter resentment welled up inside him.  </p>
<p>The whole situation was so unfair.  He’d wanted to be the best at everything when he started school.  He’d tried, and tried.  But it was never good enough.  Someone was always better or favored more, and his father had been furious with him.  For years he’d talked about how it would be different once the Dark Lord returned to power.  But Draco felt even smaller and more inferior than ever before.  And he hated it.</p>
<p>He hated the world and nearly everything in it.  Including the old man standing in front of him pretending to care.  Pretending, because his concern couldn’t possibly be genuine.  Not if he really did know the truth of it all.</p>
<p>“When you’re ready then,” Dumbledore sighed, sensing he’d get nothing more from Draco at this point in time.</p>
<p>Ready?  For what?  To ask for help, or believe he was decent enough to deserve it?</p>
<p>Because neither was as likely to happen as the other.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Draco slammed the bathroom door open.  The satisfying crack when it hit the stone wall did nothing to alleviate his foul mood.  His efforts to fix the cabinet had failed yet again.  He’d been so sure this time that he’d succeed!  He was down to a handful of weeks if he were to meet his deadline.  Fourteen days to be precise.</p>
<p>He threw his bag, listening as it too smashed into the wall, the contents spilling out as it crashed down.  That didn’t help either, and now he’d have to sort everything back out.  More wasted time when there was none to spare.</p>
<p>There’d been another letter from his Aunt Bella the day before.  She’d been all too eager to remind him that time was running out.  His eyes burned from the pressure of frustrated tears building up behind his eyes.</p>
<p>A noise had him hurrying into a stall.  He did not want to have some pathetic first year seeming him cry.  The last thing he needed was for rumors to start going around that he was weak and pitiful.  That he’d been seen crying.  He’d never live down the shame.</p>
<p>Irritated, Draco waited, listening to the person moving about as he recognized that he really was as pitiful as he feared others would believe him to be.  He hated himself for it.  But he was too terrified to do anything about it.  </p>
<p>Every time he thought of trying to get out, his aunt would be there to remind him of the consequences should he fail.  His mother.  She was counting on him.  He couldn’t let anything else happen to her.  Not after Greyback had permanently scarred her.</p>
<p>“What the bloody hell are these, Malfoy?  Is this some sort of joke?” a hard voice yelled, demanding explanations.</p>
<p>
  <i>Potter.</i>
</p>
<p>Angry and itching to have a go at someone, release some of the tension building in him, Draco shoved the stall door open and faced his long time nemesis.</p>
<p>He was ready to start hurling insults, but stopped abruptly when he saw that Potter was holding his letters from Lily.  Draco had been afraid one of his dorm mates would find them in his room, so he always kept them close to keep her existence safe.  In his bag and within easy reach if he needed to reread them when he was having a bad day.  She never failed to lift his spirits.</p>
<p>“Why has my daughter written to you?” Potter hissed, waving the damning letters before him.  </p>
<p>The handwriting probably as familiar to Harry as it was to Draco staring at them from the smooth, well-read pages.  Draco felt irrational rage grip him at the sight of Potter touching his most treasured possessions.</p>
<p>“That’s none of your business,” Draco denied, watching the letters, worried Potter might damage them.</p>
<p>“Of course it is!” Potter hollered, irate.</p>
<p>“Give ‘em back,” he ordered darkly, glaring at the other wizard.</p>
<p>“No,” Potter refused, meeting Draco’s look with one equally frosty.</p>
<p>“<i>Stupefy!</i>” Draco yelled, planning to simply take them back from a stunned Potter.</p>
<p>“<i>Protego!</i>” Potter called, erecting a shield just in time to block Draco’s spell.</p>
<p>Neither moved as the shield slowly dissipated.  Each of them clutched their wands harder.  Draco’s palms turned slick with sweat, and he wondered if they were finally going to have it out.  This fight had been coming on for six years now.  Except, Draco found he was now at a disadvantage.  He couldn’t hurt Potter.  Not without risking Lily.  </p>
<p>It wasn’t a fair fight.  </p>
<p>The knowledge had Draco’s lips curling up in a grimace as they continued to glare at one another.  Draco, seething, silently dared Potter to try something.  He wished the other wizard would.  Draco knew he deserved whatever Potter did to him.  For all the things he’d done, and to stop him from finishing the cabinet.  Maybe it’d be his excuse for why he failed.</p>
<p>“Why is she writing to you?  Have you threatened her?” Potter demanded, taking very deliberate breaths, as though trying to calm himself as he realized Draco wasn’t planning to attack him. </p>
<p>That was the exact opposite of what Draco wanted to happen.</p>
<p>“And if I did?  What would you do about it?” he taunted, trying to provoke Potter.</p>
<p>It worked.  Potter looked enraged. </p>
<p>“<i>Sectumsempra!</i>” he screamed, aiming the unfamiliar spell directly at Draco’s chest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 11: Changing Sides</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Author’s Note</p><p>Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors.  I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!  </p><p>PS I’m not J. K. Rowling, so I don’t own anything :(</p><p>~</p><p>Ch 11: Changing Sides</p><p>Pain.  Blood.  Blackness.  Tearing.  Burning.  More blood.</p><p>Fire sliced his chest.  An agony rivaling that of the Cruciatus Curse.  Draco couldn’t process what was happening.  All he knew was pain.  </p><p>Then a hooked nose, sallow face was peering at him.  Everything was blurry.  Disoriented.  Moaning.  Why did his throat hurt?  Who was making that noise?</p><p>Faint singing sounded.  Melodic and comforting.  More blackness.</p><p>All those times Draco had groaned, announcing to all who would listen that he was dying over some mere scratch or scrape, now here he was doing so in truth.  Literally bleeding out.  Surely that was what was happening right then.  Draco felt adrift.  His soul and consciousness had detached from his body.  He couldn’t feel anything, yet he knew somehow that it wasn’t cause for relief or celebration. </p><p>The fire returned -- stretching, pulling, ripping.  Dear, Merlin, that hurt!</p><p>Draco’s head lulled to the side, water lapped at him, wetting his robes, rinsing away the sticky warmth flowing from him.  The water was blessedly cool, dosing the prye’s flames roasting him alive.</p><p>Potter’s shocked and thoroughly horrified face briefly came into focus.  Why did he look like that?  Hadn’t he meant to do this to him?  Draco couldn’t be sure.  It was all a blur.</p><p>What had even happened?  Something tickled at the back of his mind, but it was just out of reach, and trying to grasp it only resulted in red-tinged black spots blooming across his vision.  </p><p>Then his eyes were closing.  An abyss beckoned, promising peace and escape from the current torment.  Draco welcomed it eagerly, nearly lunging for it.</p><p>The next clear memory he had was waking in the hospital wing.  Alone.  He’d spied on Potter once.  After the Triwizard Tournament.  Potter had been surrounded by friends, get well cards, and all manner of sweets.  None of that was visible when Draco opened his eyes.</p><p>He didn’t know how long he’d been in the hospital wing, but one thing was clear -- no one cared.  Not one person gave a damn if he lived or died.  It was rather eye-opening.</p><p>He knew in the past, he’d have blamed it on Potter.  Chalked it up to him being everyone’s favorite.  Or the boy-wonder getting hurt on purpose to gain sympathy.  But Draco couldn’t even pretend not to notice how childish his own thoughts sounded when he attempted to make such an excuse now.  He had just turned seventeen a week earlier.  An adult in the wizarding world.  Time to start acting like it.  That included acknowledging the painful truth of his current situation. </p><p>When the monstrous hippogriff had hurt him in second year, a trifling scratch he now realized, he’d been surrounded by Slytherins.  Every one of them fawning over him.  But things were different now.  His father was disgraced in the Dark Lord’s eyes.  And all of his “friends” were waiting to see if he could complete the task set before him before they decided if he was a lost cause or not.  </p><p>Currently, he was not worth aligning themselves with.</p><p>Some friends.</p><p>But then, that was the Slytherin way.  Self-preservation and self-interest above all else.  He’d just never realized how lonely it was because he’d always been at the top of it all with everyone else clinging to his robes in the hopes that he’d drag them along, furthering their own gains.</p><p>“You’ll be fine,” a deep voice drawled from across the room.  </p><p>Draco blinked, looking for his professor in the dark room.  There.  The man was slowly stalking forward, arms crossed over his chest and a blank look on his face.</p><p>If Draco didn’t know any better, he’d believe the man under the Imperius Curse.  He was so enigmatic.  A blank slate.  </p><p>No wonder he made such an effective spy.</p><p>“Potter has gone too far this time.  You might finally get your wish to see him expelled -- Chosen One or not,” Snape sneered, the faintest curl of his lips indicating his pleasure at the thought.</p><p>“He was provoked.  I started it,” Draco admitted.  The words tasted bitter.  They stung like a hive of bees trapped in his throat as he forced them out.  It was even worse when he added, “I nearly always do.”</p><p>Snape’s fear cleared in an instant.  He stared assessingly at Draco, as though not recognizing him.  Probably, he didn’t.  Never before had Draco owned up to his mistakes or accepted blame when it rightfully fell on him.  Always, he’d passed it off on another or lied outright.  No wonder he was so unanimously hated and distrusted.  </p><p>Lily’s letter from months ago when she laid out his faults in black and white came to mind.  He could be better.  <i>He would be.</i>  Starting now.  No more waiting or excuses.</p><p>“I need help,” Draco whispered, hardly daring to say the words aloud.  To acknowledge such a dangerous truth.  But he had to.  It was now or never.</p><p>“I’ve healed you, Draco.  You’ll be fine.  Minimal scarring even -- no thanks to Potter,” Professor Snape said coolly.  His dark eyes glittered in the moonlight coming in through the window, chips of hard obsidian.</p><p>“I want out,” he said flatly, meaning unmistakable.  “She said I could trust you.”</p><p>“She?  She who?” Professor Snape demanded, casting a cursory glance about. </p><p>“Potter’s daughter,” Draco clarified, surprised when he was met with more confusion from his Defense professor.  “Lily.”</p><p>Snape froze.  A stillness that seemed impossible.</p><p>Draco watched, curious.  Had Dumbledor not told him about her?  Was it because of Voldemort?  Lily seemed certain Snape could be trusted, and right now, he seemed Draco’s only hope of escape.  Of obtaining salvation.</p><p>“There was an accident, and she ended up in this time,” Draco explained carefully, not wanting to say more than necessary.  It was imperative that she remain safe -- no matter the cost to him.  “Her background means she knows things.”</p><p>“And she said you could trust me with this?” Professor Snape asked slowly, his face betraying more emotion than Draco usually saw from the man, though he couldn’t quite name the emotions present.</p><p>“Her brother...Potter named his son after you,” Draco confessed, hoping this would be enough to convince him.  Draco may not know why Potter would do such a thing, but he understood the significance of such an act.  Names were powerful.  Meaningful.  Particularly in the Wizarding World.</p><p>“What is she to you?” Professor Snape demanded harshly, almost protectively.  It was so peculiar that Draco blinked, his mouth falling open at the unexpected reaction.</p><p>“I love her,” Draco admitted baldly.</p><p>“And does she feel the same?” Professor Snape asked cautiously.</p><p>“I believe so,” Draco said, swallowing.  He hoped so at least.  “I need your help to keep her safe.  To help me deserve her.”</p><p>Draco watched Snape processing his confession, and waited.  Would he decide to help Draco?  There was no way to know what he’d decide.</p><p>“Potter found her letters to me.  He was worried about her,” Draco added, explaining the recent events, “and I may have provoked him to get out of explaining, and because… Well, I just needed an outlet.”</p><p>“In my experience, it doesn’t take much to set the boy off,” Professor Snape drawled, and Draco smirked at the reminder.  It was rather spot on.</p><p>“Will you help me deserve her?”</p><p>“It’s not a simple matter of deciding you want to be worthy.  Actions are required,” Snape warned in a measured voice.  “Atonement, Draco.  Are you prepared for -- ?”</p><p>The door to the hospital wing opened and shut seemingly of its own accord.  The quiet click reverberating in the otherwise silent room.</p><p>Both men looked towards the closed door in question.  </p><p>“<i>Homenum Revelio</i>,” Professor Snape said clearly, confirming Draco’s suspicion that someone had been eavesdropping on them.</p><p>Nothing.  The spell confirmed that they were alone.  Now.</p><p>So Potter, Potter with his invisibility cloak, had been listening to their conversation.  Well, it wasn’t like he’d heard anything important.  Or anything he hadn’t already known.  Had he?</p><p>Draco opened his mouth, but Snape held up a finger, imploring him to wait.  He did.  For five minutes, neither spoke.  And the door remained firmly closed.</p><p>At Snape’s nod, Draco repeated, “I want out.”</p><p>Snape studied him almost pityingly.  The look irritated Draco, wriggled around under his skin like worming burrowing deeper.  It was uncomfortable and painful.  Though not nearly as bad as whatever spell it was that Potter had used on him.  Had he imagined it, or had Potter been shocked at the results of the spell he’d cast?  </p><p>“Her name is Lily?” Snape asked.</p><p>“She has her grandmother’s hair, and she was born on Halloween,” Draco said, watching the dark man curiously.  </p><p>At his words, Snape’s eyes closed, and he inhaled a shaky breath.  Silence filled the room for several minutes as his professor seemed to collect himself, though Draco didn’t completely understand the reaction.  And he sensed asking would only earn him a sharp rebuke and a hasty exit.  Neither of which would help him out of his current predicament.</p><p>“I can’t get you out.  Especially not now,” Professor Snape finally said.  Regret laced the words, though not near enough in Draco’s opinion.</p><p>“Because of the Vow,” he said ominously.</p><p>“Among other things,” Professor Snape said coldly, “but if you truly love her, then I would be correct in believing that you will do anything to keep her safe.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” Draco demanded hotly, irked to have his earlier confession used against him now.  Hadn’t Lily said he could trust Snape?</p><p>“Keeping Potter alive,” Professor Snape clarified, adding, “and the best way to do that, is by keeping the Order informed about the Dark Lord’s moves.”</p><p>“You want me to become a spy,” Draco whispered, terrified as he understood the direction Snape’s thoughts had turned.</p><p>No. No. No.  Please, let him be wrong.  Draco had no desire to become a spy.  He wasn’t cut out for being deceptive.  Trying was the quickest way to get him killed.</p><p>What had Snape said earlier?  Actions.  Was this his plan all along, or was he just capitalizing on the opportunity that Draco provided?</p><p>“I want you to replace me at the end of the year,” Professor Snape said quietly, approaching Draco’s bedside.  </p><p>Snape was going to kill Dumbledor for Draco.  No one would trust him after that.  He’d have no way to protect Potter, and therefore Lily.  But Draco could.  Lily.  Lupin and Tonks too.  They were his in.  Draco’s warnings would still count.  </p><p>And Snape would take on the despicable task of killing the headmaster for Draco.  He owed the man for that.  Was this the price?  Was this the salvation he’d been hoping to find?  </p><p>He hadn’t expected strings.  But perhaps he should have.  Nothing came free in life.  Not even redemption.  Apparently, especially not it. </p><p>“I did warn you that atonement was required,” Snape said smoothly, sensing Draco was close to caving. </p><p>His stomach churned.  Much as it had when Katie Bell returned two weeks earlier from her stint in St. Mungo’s that Draco was responsible for.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” he agreed hoarsely, praying he’d not regret the deal he’d just struck.</p><p>“Then for now, see about fixing that cabinet,” Professor Snape instructed brusquely.  “I spoke to the Dark Lord and got you an extension.  You have until the end of June now.  So long as it is done before the end of the school year, your mother will not be harmed -- no matter if Bellatrix implies otherwise.”  </p><p>“But --”</p><p>“It’s a delicate balance.  You must keep both sides happy, regardless of the personal cost.  Do you understand?”</p><p>“Yes,” Draco said grudgingly.  </p><p>Gratitude, fear, and despair all warred for dominance within him.  The end of the war couldn’t come soon enough.  Hopefully he wouldn’t screw things up too much to be there to see it for himself.</p><p>~</p><p>Draco was released from the hospital wing in the morning.  He nearly skipped breakfast, but since it had been nearly a whole day since he last ate, he was too hungry to wait until lunch.  When he entered the Great Hall, no one paid him any notice.  He’d done such a good job isolating himself recently, that it was as though the other members of his house hardly even saw him, let alone expected him to interact with them.</p><p>In fact, the only noteworthy thing to happen was the way Potter stared speculatively at Snape throughout the entire meal.  The professor did an admirable job of ignoring Potter, but there was no way he missed the piercing look directed at him.  </p><p>Evidently Draco had mentioned something Potter didn’t already know about.  What other reason would Potter have for watching Snape so intently with that much open confusion?  At least the other wizard was now more focused on Snape than he was Draco.  The respite would help since he would have a bit of space now to get the cabinet fixed.</p><p>Luckily, he didn’t have any classes with the Gryffindors that day, so he didn’t have to worry about Potter cornering him to demand answers or have to endure similar stares to the ones the Chosen Git had given Snape.</p><p>He’d even had several uninterrupted hours to work on the cabinet after dinner since he wasn’t bothering with homework anymore.  Though he had to admit the only truly good part of his day was when he returned to his dorm just before bed.  </p><p>A letter from Lily was waiting for him.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Are you all right?  Tonks told me what my dad did.  Please write as soon as you can.  I’m worried about you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Lily</i>
</p><p>Draco read the words again and again.  She cared.  This was proof.  Proof that he’d done the right thing.  Finally.  </p><p>He hesitated to write his reply, worried it might fall into the wrong hands, but in the end decided to risk it.  He was too impatient to wait to tell her.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m fine.  He found your letters, and we had a slight disagreement, that’s all.  I asked Snape for help.  He’s asked me to turn spy for the Order, and I’ve agreed. I promise I’m going to do right by you and be the better man you believe I can be.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Draco</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>Barely a day passed before her reply arrived.  Helios arrived during breakfast, and Draco noted how Potter watched the familiar golden-masked owl head straight for him, dropping off the letter before leaving.  Their eyes locked across the Great Hall, but for once, Potter’s face was a complete mask.  Draco didn’t have the slightest inkling as to what the other wizard was thinking.</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>What?  What does that mean?  Do you understand how dangerous that is?</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours, <br/>Lily</i>
</p><p>The succinct note made him smile.  She was worried about him.</p><p>It wasn’t hard to come up with an equally succinct reply to send out that evening with his own owl.</p><p>
  <i>Lily,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’m doing it for you.  I’d do anything to keep you safe.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Draco</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>
  <i>Draco,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>My dad finally wrote, asking me to tell him everything.  It’s the first time he has since it happened.  He wants to know all about us.  Demanded to know, more like.  I’m going to tell him -- even though I’m still furious that he hurt you.  I can’t believe he used a spell like that!  It’s so unlike the man I sort of remember.  Anyways, I wanted to give you a heads up first before I tell him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours,<br/>Lily</i>
</p><p>
  <i>PS Studying for O.W.L.s is brutal.  Remus has me on a ridiculous schedule, and I can’t wait for it to be over next week!</i>
</p><p>Draco blinked and swallowed thickly.  Potter was bound to confront him once he knew the whole truth.  Though he’d thought Potter would before, at any point during the last month truthfully, but he hadn’t.  Instead, he seemed content to simply watch Draco silently.  It was unnerving.  Maybe that was the point.</p><p>~</p><p>Three days later, Draco stared in wonder at the Vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement.  It couldn’t be possible.  There was no way that it was working.  </p><p>Except it was.</p><p>And just like that, Draco found himself laughing.  Relief and horror poured through him, coming out as twisted, maniacal hysteria.</p><p>It was really going to happen.</p>
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